


Their Greatest Miracles

by NeversideFaerie



Series: Block and Meklavar's Greatest Quest [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Demisexual Hunk (Voltron), F/M, Family Feels, Fantasy, Flashbacks, Major Illness, Married Life, Monsters & Mana (Voltron), Sad with a Happy Ending, Team as Family, Unrequited Love, fanchild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-08 10:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16427543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeversideFaerie/pseuds/NeversideFaerie
Summary: Sequel to "Their Greatest Quest". Jiro, Pike and Valayun pay a casual visit to Block and Meklavar, only to find they are struggling with a serious challenge. The only way to find the solution is by going on yet another quest…





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

“So, when Afen’s a little older, you’ll educate him, Hunk?”

“Well, yeah. Not unless you want your character stay at home and I’ll go out to work…”

“Ha! Not a chance. You’d make a much better stay-at-home Dad than I would a stay-at-home Mom. I’ll provide for us by working as a woodcutter. Meklavar _is_ the best axe-fighter in three lands, you know…” Pidge put her hands on her hips and looked proud.

She and Hunk were sat on one of the sofas in the lounge. Allura, Shiro, Coran and Lance were hanging around the sitting area, unable to help hearing the pair’s conversation. Since their last Monsters and Mana game the day before, Hunk and Pidge had really taken a shine to the thought of their characters raising a child and had been talking about him near incessantly ever since. They had now planned that Afendorn – or “Afen”, as they had started calling him – would be home-educated (did schools even exist in the Monsters and Mana universe?) and that they’d take him to visit his extended family on occasion (which unsurprisingly included Jiro, Pike and Valayun). They were so enthusiastic that if a stranger had eavesdropped, they might have supposed the two friends were indeed married with a son…even if that said son was nowhere to be seen.

Lance walked behind back of the settee. “So, I take it you’re a happy family now.”

“Well, yeah, our characters are,” responded Hunk.

Lance slid down and seated himself between them, crossing his legs and resting his head on his palms. “Have you and your kid got any plans to visit ‘Uncle Pike’ from time to time?”

“Sure we have!” replied Pidge, “There’s lot of stuff our characters could do together. Hey! What if we all went swimming in the creek? That’s the sort of thing I loved doing as a kid.”

“Do you need someone to teach your characters’ son how to swim?” piped up Shiro with a smile, whom they hadn’t realised was on the platform right behind the sofa, “I’m sure Jiro could help you out there.”

“Sure, UNCLE Jiro…” answered Pidge.

“Man, I still can’t believe I’m an uncle…” Lance looked dreamy before suddenly sitting up as a revelation hit him. “Wait…I already am an uncle!” He slapped his forehead. “Man, I almost forgot I’m not Pike for a moment.”

“Does Pike not have a niece and nephew too?” asked Hunk.

Lance paused. “I actually hadn’t thought about that. Hey! Maybe Pike has a family just like mine, except they’d all have cat ears and live in a cave.”

“Aww, your niece and nephew would be kittens!” Hunk’s eyes glittered over. “I suppose since my relatives are sorcerers we’d live…wherever sorcerers live.”

“I guess my character’s family must live in a dwarf mining village,” said Pidge, “After all, Meklavar IS a dwarven miner, not to mention the best axe-fighter in three lands…” She looked proud.

“Yeah, about that…” said Lance, “How exactly do you _know_ you’re the best axe-fighter in three lands? Was there a competition or something…?”

“Hey! That’s a cool idea! I’ll bet Meklavar fought off brutes in the arena four times her size!”

“That sounds like quite a story,” remarked Shiro. Having seen little Pidge in battle before, it didn’t even sound like an unbelievable one either! Despite being 4”9 and built like Twiggy, the green paladin was a force to be reckoned with.

Allura was now at his side. “I suppose if you put all your ideas together, you could make rather a good story. I’d love to hear it.”

“I might be of assistance…” said Coran, suddenly appearing beside her, “I’ve heard quite my share of stories in my time!”

He, Allura and Shiro made their way off the platform into the seating area.

“I’ll start us off,” Coran cleared his throat, “Jiro, Valayun and Pike are on their way to visit your characters and Afendorn after recently completing a minor quest. They have plenty of adventures to tell them about…”

“Wait…we’re actually making up a story now?” said Hunk.

“Hold on a minute…” said Lance, “My character went on a quest with Jiro and Valayun? What exactly did we do?”

“You’ll find out in the story.” Coran winked.

“OK…so this quest isn’t from a game we’ve played…”

The others weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but were more than willing to join in, giving suggestions and asking questions, as Coran started them off on what eventually became a surprisingly complex yarn…

…

It was the seventh month of the year and the heat was sweltering. Valayun could feel beads of sweat on her face and wished more than anything she could take off her armour and bodysuit. However, she was not tucked up inside her cosy treehouse where she’d be free to change into her summer nightie and flop onto her bed, cooling herself with her hand fan. Rather, she was trudging her way through the forest, her feet aching from hours of walking, trying to find the nearest place she knew that she and her companions could rest after their journey and possibly stay for the night before their trek home – Block and Meklavar’s cottage. It was currently approaching dinnertime and she could imagine her sorcerer friend pouring his little son some pottage out of the trusty bowl that could never run out of food (unless it got broken, but that was another story…)

She hoped that maybe he would serve them some supper, as she, Pike and Jiro were worn out after their quest. Pike seemed to have the same idea.

“Man, I’m starving! I sure can’t wait to get to Block and Meklavar’s place. At long last, I can sit down…have something to eat…maybe take a bath…” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. Despite having many cat-like qualities, at least aversion to water wasn’t one of them!

“I’m with you, Pike,” agreed Jiro, who was sweating profusely himself due to being clad in his full armour, albeit without his usual cloak, “We all deserve a rest after a long quintant.”

“I do hope they won’t mind us coming,” said Valayun, “It must be difficult enough getting Afen to go to bed without us staying over as well!”

“I don’t know…” Pike scratched his chin, “Maybe a few bedtime stories from old Uncle Pike will help him drift off…”

“Or keep him awake even longer…” Valayun added with a chuckle, “But whatever you do, please don’t tell him about how I fell over while trying to defeat that troll. That was embarrassing…”

“I can keep a secret…” Pike looked proud. Indeed, he was very good at keeping secrets. In fact, there were quite a lot of them that his team-mates had seemingly no idea about...

There was that one time, only a few weeks ago, when Afendorn (wearing an off-white tunic, a mahogany waistcoat and brown leggings) had been messing around in the garden, now in full bloom, and accidentally knocked over the washing line, upon which were Block and Meklavar’s freshly washed clothes (which, to make matters worse, included their undergarments…) The couple had no idea that Pike had been hiding in the nearby bushes while it happened and had quickly beckoned to the toddler boy, who had run through the gate and joined him in his hiding place. Block was busy studying his spell books indoors but Meklavar soon came out of the house, wearing her short-sleeved green day dress with the peasant blouse underneath, and went through the roof when she saw what had become of her laundry. She called out for Afen crossly, certain this mischief must be his doing, but Pike put a finger to his lips and the little boy copied, not letting out a peep.  

Eventually, Meklavar had to admit it must be the result of a very strong gust of wind and set about collecting up the soaking wet and muddied items of clothing, grumbling about how she’d have to wash them all over again. She carried the pile back into the cottage and Pike poked his head out of his hiding spot.

“Looks like the coast is clear!” observed Pike, “Whew! That was a close one, little fella! Trust me – you really don’t want to get on Meklavar’s bad side, especially when she’s your Mom.”

Suddenly, Afendorn burst into tears.

“Wait? Why are you crying, little guy?” The rogue reached over and embraced the small boy.

Afen tried to say something, but his already unclear speech was muffled even more by sniffles and sobs.

“Aww…there’s no need to worry. I’ve got you, little buddy.”

The toddler let go of him, but still had tears running down his face.

“What’s wrong?” Pike tried again.

Despite sobs, he was just about able to make out, “I…want…Dad.”

“Oh! You want your Dad?” Pike placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I can take you to your Dad.” It was then he noticed a figure emerging from the house. “Oh look!” He pointed in the direction of the door, though the bush was concealing him so well Block didn’t notice. “There he is now!”

Afen turned to look and then dashed straight out of the bush, through the gate and into his garden. “DAAAAAD!” he cried all the way until he arrived at the hem of Block’s tunic, wrapping his arms around his father.

The sorcerer was rather upset to see his son in tears and quickly scooped him up. “What’s wrong, Afen?” he asked, resting the infant on his hip.

The little boy didn’t reply. “Did you knock down Mom’s washing?” probed Block. It was the only reason he could think of.

Afendorn nodded.

“Well, that’s actually kind of good as your Mom was worried there might be a naughty wind sprite about, which I would have to track down and defeat with my magic…if I could actually catch it first. Man, those wind sprites are tricky…” Afen looked a little more cheerful and Block smiled in response. “Come on, little guy. Let’s go find your Mom.”

He carried the boy back into the house. Pike didn’t hear much of the conversation that followed, but he was certain Meklavar didn’t shout when he told her what happened. An hour later, he saw Block coming out of the cottage with an armful of re-washed clothes. He was going to put them on the line before realising the pole was still knocked over. Pike thought now would be a good time to make himself known to his old friend. He slid out of the bushes.

“Hey, Block!” he cried, surreptitiously strolling through the gate.

“Oh, hi there Pike!” responded Block, not taking his eyes off the fallen pole. Pike went over and propped it back up again. He proceeded to help Block place the clothes over the line (though he was careful to leave him Meklavar’s underwear!) before they both stood back to admire their handiwork.

“Thanks, buddy,” said Block, “I was exhausted after washing all those clothes. Afen knocked over the washing line and they got muddy, so I offered to wash them again…Meklavar’s been under a lot of stress lately. As much as I love our little guy, he’s a real handful sometimes. I’d never seen her get so cross before the last couple phoebs…” His voice trailed off for some reason.

“I’m happy to help!” Pike slapped him on the shoulder, which seemed to perk him up. He followed Block into the house and spent some time catching up with his pals and messing around with their son, who was now looking a lot happier.

In the present, it was amazing to think he hadn’t seen any of them since that little visit.

Valayun was dusting herself off for what seemed like the millionth time, trying to get rid of the dirt that had accumulated on her outfit after she fell over while fighting a troll. She couldn’t wait to be able to wash it again and was quite tempted to jump in the nearest stream, clothes and all. Indeed, she knew there was a river not far from where Block and Meklavar lived, as she had gone there before with her friends less than a year ago.

Afendorn had been a little over eighteen months at the time (it had been the height of summer – perfect for a day of swimming) and had gone in the water stark naked, not that anyone batted an eyelid. Block had worn his pyjamas and Meklavar her old oversized blouse and maroon leggings, her hair worn down, now reaching long past her shoulders. At first, the toddler had merely paddled at the edge, but before long Block had eased him into the deeper area of the creek. Afen had taken hold of his father’s big strong hands and began kicking his little feet, giggling with glee at his freedom in the water. Meanwhile, Pike – clad in nothing but an old pair of trousers – jumped out of a tree into the river, landing with an inelegant belly flop. The others were all splashed! Normally, Valayun (wearing just her bodysuit) would have been annoyed, but since she was only bound to get herself even wetter as the swimming session progressed, decided to shrug it off. She teasingly splashed Pike back once he’d arisen from the depths.

Jiro (dressed in a navy tunic and black trousers) played for a little bit with Afen next, trying to teach him how to doggy paddle. Block had fun with Meklavar, letting her ride on his back as he swam, and playing games in the water like “hunt the rock” and “catch the stick”. Though the couple were adults in every sense of the word – living together in marital unity, working together to make ends meet and bearing the responsibility of raising a small child – it was still good to be able to have fun on occasion. They were still so young in many ways, just twenty-one and twenty-three years old…

Pike and Valayun joined in their games, which turned out to be considerably more challenging than one might think at first. Elves and anthropomorphic beings, as it turned out, had no advantage over dwarves and humans when it came to holding their breath underwater (Pike actually asked if they could use the bubble helmets they’d had on their underwater mission but Meklavar wanted to make the game more challenging). Block tossed a suitably large rock into the water and the others looked as fast as they could on the river bed for it…which turned out to be like looking for a needle in a haystack. The water was perfectly clear and there were few obstructions from plants, but the entire riverbed was almost completely comprised of stones (indeed, that was where Block had got the rock from in the first place!) After a fruitless search (with some assistance from Block himself), they gave up and moved onto the next game, which involved chasing after a twig released into the current.

“On the count of three…” began Block, holding the small branch above the running water, “One…two…three!” He dropped the stick into the water and it was swiftly carried away. After a few seconds, he then cried, “GO!”

Pike, Valayun and Meklavar swam after it speedily. The dwarf girl was annoyed when she saw her two rivals were quickly getting ahead of her. _Come on, Meklavar_ , she thought, _You haven’t started working out again for nothing!_

Jiro stopped what he was doing and said to Afen, “Let’s go catch that stick! I’m sure we can beat the others.”

The boy squealed in delight and Jiro gave him a piggyback. “Hold on tight…” he advised the toddler.

He then pursued the twig, careful to swim on his front as to not drown his passenger. He was a pretty strong swimmer and soon caught up with the others. Pike desperately thrashed for the stick, but just missed and the movement of his hands swept it further away from him. Meklavar tried to grab it next, but the powerful current kept it just out of reach. _Curse my short arms!_ she thought. She made a lunge for it, but only ended up under the water, the branch being tossed further by the wave she’d created. Valayun and Pike ended up in a match against each other, clawing the water, determined to reach just a tiny bit further…when Jiro suddenly pushed right past them and snatched up the stick, right before either of them had a chance to blink.

He got to his feet and held the twig high above his head. The others also found their footing and cheered. Afen was especially excited that his “team” had won the game.

Jiro soon squatted down again though and let Afen get down from his back. He supported the little boy’s body with both his hands and said, “Go find your Mom.”

He turned the infant around until he was facing Meklavar and then let go. The dwarf woman’s jaw dropped in delight as the boy swam towards her, propelling himself with his back legs. Once he was near her, she took hold of his torso and pulled him into an embrace. “Oh my gosh, you can swim! You’re turning into a little merman.” She turned to Jiro. “I can’t believe he’s learning so fast.”

Jiro smiled proudly before the group swam back to where Block was standing, Afen riding on Meklavar’s back. It was a surprisingly long distance – the five hadn’t noticed how far downstream they’d gone during the tense pursuit of the twig.

As soon as she was beside Block, Meklavar handed their son to him and said, “You’re never gonna believe what just happened. Jiro taught him how to swim!” She ruffled Afen’s sodden hair. “Isn’t that right, little guy? Uncle Jiro’s a great teacher!”

Block lifted him up, so that the toddler was sat with his face directly in front of his. “Man, you’re growing up so fast. It wasn’t that long ago you were still in your Mom’s tummy, those little legs of yours getting strong. You’re becoming so smart and agile, just like her.” He kissed the boy’s forehead, which made him giggle.

Then suddenly Meklavar started laughing. Block was about to ask her what was so funny when he heard something go, “Plop!” He looked in the water and saw something brown slowly sinking. The others fell about laughing when they realised what it was.

“Aww, nuts…” Block looked his son in the face. “We should have made you wear a diaper! Do they make diapers you can wear in water…?”

“We really need to get you toilet trained,” said Meklavar to the baby, “You can’t just go anywhere!”

After their swim, Block carried Afen onto dry land and wrapped him up in a blanket. The group had brought several bags with them containing snacks and dry clothes. As soon as Afendorn was taken care of, Block draped another blanket around his shivering wife’s shoulders. She was really feeling the cold from the breeze now she was out of the water, not that it had been particularly warm in the river. Block would have been quite happy to magic her a wetsuit, surfing shoes and goggles…if he actually had any idea of what those things were.  However, he did know all too well what a cuddle was and gave her another one of his famous embraces to try and warm her up. Meklavar was more than willing to accept it.

The group walked to the cottage, which wasn’t far away. There was no need for Block to start a fire, as it was still a pretty hot day, so Meklavar sat in her rocking chair with her little son on her lap, rubbing him dry. After she’d changed him into his pyjamas (and her into her nightgown), she sat at the table and Block conjured from his bowl some bread, cheese and berries that everyone had for dinner. Afendorn, however, had his meal from Meklavar’s breast. Now that he was bigger, she had him sit on her lap as she fed him. Valayun watched her as she shared this tender intimacy with her child.

“It’s wonderful seeing you grow into motherhood,” she commented, “I must admit, it’s something I could never do.”

“I know it’s gonna sound crazy now, but when I was pregnant with this little guy, I was the same. I guess becoming a Mom came naturally once he popped out.”

Afen finished drinking from one breast and Meklavar moved him onto the other.

“Block and I have really grown up a lot these past couple years. Being a Dad’s changed him a lot too.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that…” responded Block modestly.

Meklavar laughed and Block picked up some cheese from her plate, which he fed her. He continued to help her eat, ignoring his own supper, until Afen had drained her milk. He continued to suck though, hoping for more.

“It’s all gone now, little guy,” said Meklavar, prising his head off her chest and handing him to her husband. She proceeded to do up the drawstring of her nightie.

Afen grizzled and tried to escape from his Dad’s lap. “Are you still hungry, little fella? Here – have some of my food.”

He popped a berry into the boy’s mouth. The toddler liked it so much Block fed him a few more, careful to pick away any stems or large seeds.

“We really need to wean you onto grown-up food,” said Meklavar, having covered herself up, “You’re not gonna be a baby for much longer.”

“Is he talking yet?” asked Valayun. She’d heard him babble and laugh over the past year or so whenever she visited, but hadn’t yet made out any understandable words.

“Sure, you can talk, can’t you, little guy? Say, ‘Aunt Valayun’.” She looked at Afen but he just giggled. “Say, ‘Dad’…” she tried instead.

Afen was silent for a few seconds before turning his head to face Block. He began to form a noise. “Da…da!”

“Good boy!” Meklavar ruffled his hair.

Now Afen was looking at his mother, he began to say a different word. “Ma…ma!”

“That’s me!” Meklavar laughed.

Valayun saw that Block’s expression had become particularly tender, as it always did when he felt a deep sense of love for his wife and child.

“Hey, little guy! Do you think you could say, ‘Uncle Pike’?” The rogue flashed a charming grin.

Afen didn’t reply.

“Do you think you can say that?” Meklavar addressed her son, “Uncle…Pike? What about just Pike?” Afen only smiled. “Pike?” his mother tried again. She then leaned a little bit closer. “Pike?” she repeated.

She waited a little longer before saying the word once again.

Afen took a few more seconds before saying, “…Pite?”

“Good boy, Afen!” Meklavar gave her son a high five.

Pike looked really proud as well, even if the toddler had mispronounced his name (as was to be expected – it was the first time he’d heard Afen talk as well).

In the present, he, Jiro and Valayun were getting nearer to their friends’ house. Pike could even make it out through the trees and boy, was he glad to see it!

“I can already taste one of Block’s home-cooked meals!” he cried, throwing his arms in the air.

Jiro was rather looking forward to that as well. He was very fond of food made from scratch, but not a very good cook himself. Block, however, was a superb chef and he always enjoyed what he created – whether it was using real ingredients or his magical bowl – but sometimes he missed the simple meals cooked for him by someone he used to know…

Pike made his way through the gate. The bushes of summer berries and a great variety of flowers were in bloom in Meklavar’s garden, creating a bright and colourful scene. The three walked up to the door and Jiro knocked. For a few moments, nobody answered.

Pike and Valayun were just beginning to worry that their friends might not be in, when the door slowly opened and there was stood Block. Instead of his usual jolly demeanour, he looked rather tired and there wasn’t a smile to be found on his face. “Hey, guys…” he said, barely able to look them in the eyes, “Do you need to stay the night?”

Jiro sensed something wasn’t right. “Block? Is everything OK?”

Block didn’t reply. Tears were forming in his eyes, though he was trying to fight them away. He wiped them with his sleeve, though his mouth was still trembling.

“Come here…” Valayun went over and hugged him. Block closed his eyes and let his tears flow freely. The embrace went on for half a minute before he felt secure enough to let go. Valayun took hold of his hand. “Block, what’s upsetting you? I’ve never seen you like this before.”

He was barely able to choke out the words. “It’s…it’s my son.” He put a fist to his mouth.

“What’s happened to your son?” asked Valayun softly.

Block composed himself. “Well, he seemed perfectly OK a few quintants ago but then one quintant he said he had a headache and Meklavar thought him eating dinner might make him feel better, but then he got dizzy and fainted and we had to put him to bed, and when he woke up he was too weak to do anything and then the next two quintants after that he kept coughing and throwing up and now he has a high fever and he still keeps being sick and I don’t know what to do.” He started to cry again and Valayun gave him another cuddle. “I keep giving him medicine,” he continued, “But it isn’t working! None of my potions have any effect on him. He’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 Chapter Two

The door to Afen’s bedroom opened slightly.

“You don’t mind if we come in?” asked Valayun gently.

“Uh, sure,” responded Meklavar after a short pause, “You don’t mind visitors, do you, little guy?”

The dwarf woman’s hair had grown rather long, after not having been cut for almost four years, and was scooped into a ponytail. She was wearing a white peasant blouse underneath a short-sleeved green dress with a lace-up bodice. Her appearance had grown considerably more feminine over the past few years. What caught Valayun’s attention, however, was just how exhausted she looked. Had she been sleeping at night lately? There were dark bags beneath her eyes and she was barely able to muster a smile for her guests. She was also looking worryingly skinnier than usual.

Jiro carefully opened the door and he, Pike, Valayun and Block stepped inside. The place seemed dark and gloomy, despite being lit by the nearby window.

“Hey, little guy,” whispered Pike, “Guess who’s come to visit? Your old Uncle Pike…” He tried to keep a cheery appearance, but the sight in front of him pierced his heart.

Afendorn was tucked up in his bed, a single adult-sized one with a warm burgundy throw, though the blanket was folded in half, exposing his torso. He was also looking noticeably thinner than usual, having been able to keep very little down since getting sick. His eyes were closed, yet he didn’t appear to be asleep. His mother was sat beside him, holding a flask. There was a chamber pot beside her as well.

“Did you hear that?” Meklavar said to him, trying to hide her tiredness, “You love Uncle Pike, don’t you?”

The boy opened his eyes and turned his head to see his goofy friend.

“Hey there,” said Pike, getting closer and crouching down, “I hear you’ve been feeling a little under the weather lately. Is that right?”

Afen nodded.

“Maybe I could tell you a story and cheer you up a bit.” He proceeded to recount the time he ended up catching dragon flu after a run-in with an infected reptile and how his mother freaked out when started snorting fire every time he sneezed, forcing her to dash to the nearest alchemist for a cure. Block, Meklavar and even Afen (albeit weakly) laughed along with everyone else and the mood was lightened. He also went on to tell him about the quest to defeat a troublesome troll they’d been on earlier (with some interventions from Jiro and Valayun – his version of the story wasn’t the most reliable…)

After story time was over, Meklavar invited their guests downstairs for dinner while Block gave Afen his medicine and some chicken soup he’d conjured from his bowl. There was silence as the three seated themselves on the chairs around the kitchen table. Meklavar spread out the wooden plates and conjured everyone a cheese, onion and egg tart from Block’s bowl. Once she’d served herself a meal, she placed the dish in the middle of the table and sat herself down. They said grace and began to eat, with the exception of Meklavar. She leaned both elbows on the table and stared into her food for what seemed like ages, unable to bring herself to eat it, before finally bursting into tears.

Jiro was sat beside her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder while she covered her face with both hands and sobbed. Valayun got up from the table and went over to give her a hug. She was crying too. Block was prone to panicking about nothing, but after seeing how weak his son was looking she realised that he had not been exaggerating when he’d described his illness earlier.

Pike had barely touched his food and tears were forming in his own eyes. He didn’t even try to wipe them away.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry in front of Afen…” said Meklavar.

Her eyes watered even more and she lost all speech. Pike began to hide his face. Jiro didn’t cry but his face was very forlorn.  

Valayun planted a kiss on her head and let go of her. “Thank you,” said Meklavar, her face red raw.

“Maybe you should sit yourself down in your rocking chair,” advised Valayun, “You look tired out!” It occurred to her that this was only the second time she’d ever seen her tough warrior friend cry, the first time being when she’d just given birth to him. Some of Block’s words still echoed in her head: _He’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it!_ The thought made her feel sick.

She and Jiro helped their friend up and settled her into her favourite sitting place. Pike brought her dinner over and placed it on her lap, encouraging her to take a large bite. She did so and had no difficulty swallowing. Her friends sat around her, forgetting about their own meals. After she’d eaten half the tart, she was looking a little more collected, though still very sad.

“It seemed like everything was going so well. We’ve been happily married for almost four decaphoebs, we have an adorable kid, we haven’t been struggling for money, the witch of Venric’s daughter hasn’t come back for revenge…I guess life was pretty good. I remember Block and I saying that having a kid was gonna be our greatest quest and it was gonna take the rest of our lives to complete…” Tears spurted from her eyes again and Valayun took her hand. “We can’t lose him! Not after just two and a half decaphoebs. That’s no age to die. It wasn’t that long ago he was still in diapers!”

“There has to be a way to save him,” reassured Valayun, “It’s difficult to believe none of Block’s sorcery has had any effect. I have heard of sorcerers who’ve been able to cure strokes and plagues. Whatever this illness is, it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of before. My father is very skilled in the way of sorcery and I think he’s staying in this land at the moment. Perhaps he will know of a way to cure Afen.”

Meklavar nodded quickly. Valayun rose to her feet, patting Meklavar’s hand before making her way towards the door, picking up her tart on the way.

“If I cannot find him, I will be back within three vargas.”

She walked out through the door. It was still light outside and would be some time before it eventually grew dark.

Meklavar dabbed at her eyes before Pike suddenly gave her a hug. A tear was trickling down his cheek. “I don’t want to lose him either,” he said. Jiro looked on with sympathy.

Throughout Pike’s mind rushed memories of all the experiences he’d shared with the little boy. Play-fighting in the meadow, climbing trees (alongside Valayun, who was considerably better at it than him and Afen!), getting up to mischief, pretending to be scary dragons together…it couldn’t all _just end._ Afen’s illness had come so abruptly, without any warning. Little over half an hour ago, he had no idea the boy had been afflicted by it. Going through his head had been all those happy recollections of all the things he had done with him, as well as his parents and their friends. He’d first met the child while he was still inside of Meklavar’s womb and been there (more or less) when she’d given birth to him. He’d watched Afen grow from a baby to a toddler, who was now on the verge of becoming a small boy, making so many progresses along the way.

He remembered the times he first saw him crawl and walk and talk and swim. He hadn’t even realised a child could learn to swim so young! He’d been much older when his oldest brother had taught him how to swim.

It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d had such a connection. He remembered being just a cub (or kitten? Anthropomorphic beings were prone to being inconsistent in their terminology) when he’d first felt his niece and nephew kick inside of his sister-in-law’s belly, talking to them and asking their mother questions. That seemed like such a long time ago now and it wouldn’t be long before they were approaching young adulthood. He’d been through all those experiences he’d shared with Afen with his niece and nephew, as well as so many more. Could that little boy really be soon snatched from his life – and the lives of all those around him?

…

Valayun returned a couple of hours later, by which time it was starting to get dark. By some miracle, she had found Alfor and they were hurrying as fast as they could. Alfor was carrying a couple of books he thought might be important.

“Where is everyone?” she asked Jiro, who was sat in Block’s chair, the only person still in the kitchen-diner.

“They went upstairs,” he responded.

He, Valayun and Alfor found them in Afen’s room again, sat around his bed. None of them were talking but rather watching the little boy, who had closed his eyes again. When Block saw them arrive, he put a finger to his lips. The others got the cue.

“Has his condition worsened?” whispered Valayun.

“Not really,” replied Meklavar, “I’m just glad he’s getting some rest now.”

“May I inspect him?” asked Alfor, stepping forth.

Meklavar nodded and the sorcerer bent forward. He placed a hand on Afen’s forehead to take his temperature, careful not to wake him, even though he was sleeping very deeply.

“Valayun told me at first he was dizzy, then he was unable to keep down his food and now he’s suffering from a fever. Is that correct?”

Block nodded. “I’ve looked through all my books but I can’t figure out what he’s come down with! I’ve tried giving him medicine for other ailments but it hasn’t worked…” He started to get tearful again and Meklavar took hold of his hand.

“I see…” mused Alfor. He seated himself beside the boy’s bed and started looking through his tomes. “What your son has come down with must be a very rare illness. It hasn’t caused him to form a rash and I don’t think it’s contagious.” Block and Meklavar felt sick at the very suggestion. He browsed through the pages for a few minutes, before putting them both down. “When exactly did Afen contract the disease?”

“It wasn’t even a movement ago,” responded Meklavar, “He started getting sick on the last Sabbath Quintant, a few vargas after we’d got back from church.”

“Do you think he could have caught it from someone there?”

“I really don’t know…I haven’t heard about anybody else getting sick nearby with the same illness. Block even asked the alchemist when he visited her the other quintant.”

“Where else do you suppose he could have contracted the illness?”

Meklavar thought for a few minutes. “Apart from church, I have no idea. He hasn’t really been out a lot lately…I was real sick a phoeb ago and we haven’t been out visiting in a while. Mostly he’s just been playing in the garden. Sometimes we’ve taken him for a swim. I’m trying to think who he’s been in contact with…”

“I cannot find any record of his illness in my books. However, I have a theory about why this is. Block?”

“Oh…er…yes?”

“Much like myself, you are a sorcerer – a healer. You spend your time casting spells and making medicines. Have you ever heard of anyone making an illness using sorcery?”

“What? No, I…” Block’s eyes widened chillingly. “Wait…are you saying this disease my son has…was made by a _sorcerer_?”

Valayun gasped and a hand flew to her mouth. Pike and Jiro were speechless as well.

“Holy Quiznack…” Meklavar swore, beginning to see the full implications of what that could mean. Block put his arm around her shoulders.

“Who would do such a thing?!” said Valayun, still recovering from the shock.

“Yeah!” added Pike, “Aren’t sorcerers bound to some tight laws about how they can’t use their skills to hurt others or something?”

“Indeed so,” answered Alfor, “But I have seen many in my time turn from the light to the dark. There are those who engage in sorcery for corrupt reasons, to collect gain and harm others.” In his time, he’d seen magic used for the greatest good and the darkest evil. Perhaps the darkest of all those evils was something that had happened all too close to home…

“I’ve met a lot of people like that…” said Meklavar darkly, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“I don’t get it,” interjected Block, “What could some bad guy gain from making our son ill? It’s not like he has an inheritance to give to someone or they’d want to get revenge on him for…” He broke off. “Quiznack.” He struggled to process the sinister news that had sprung into his pure-hearted mind. “It’s us someone’s trying to get revenge on, isn’t it? It has to be us!” He held his wife even closer, looking as though he might cry again.

Meklavar’s expression grew angry. “I’d like to see whoever did this to our son rot in gaol.” Tears began to spurt from her eyes again.

“I can imagine after completing so many quests over the years, you have made a lot of enemies,” said Jiro, the only person besides Alfor who was pretty calm, “Have you defeated any sorcerers?”

“Sure…I think so,” answered Block, “But if I remember correctly, I think we killed them as well…” Another idea came to mind. “Oh shoot. What if we’re dealing with a GHOST here?! Wait…do you think ghosts can still do sorcery? What if it’s right here in this house and it’s been using my stuff? I don’t even know to perform an exorcism…!”

Alfor reached out and took hold of his hand. “Do not worry. I don’t think there’s a poltergeist in your house. As I’m sure you’re aware, though sorcerers are the formal practitioners of sorcery, there are many others who can learn the skills of such magic.”

“Like me,” said Meklavar all of a sudden. She turned to her husband. “Block’s been teaching me how to make potions.”

“She’s actually rather good at it,” whispered Block to Alfor, “Especially the formulas. It’s crazy to think a couple decaphoebs ago she couldn’t even read!” Meklavar smiled weakly.

What Block didn’t mention was that it was actually him who had taught his wife to read. He’d known for a while she was illiterate, having grown up in a poor family. She’d spent her childhood helping her mother with the housework and practicing her fighting skills with her older brother, eventually working in the mines alongside her father. After getting married, he’d set about teaching her to read and write. By now, she was able to write letters to her family, although only her father could read them, having received some formal schooling before he reached young adulthood and became a miner. He was a little rusty though, which became especially evident whenever he wrote letters in response…

“Some, like yourself…” Alfor looked at Meklavar. “…use their knowledge for the benefit of others, but it goes without saying that there are many who use sorcery for evil.” He tried not to wince at the painful memories coming back to mind, triggered by those words.

“Do you suppose any of your enemies could have learned sorcery to get revenge upon you?” suggested Jiro.

“Ha. I can think of a few who would…” replied Meklavar.

Block’s hands flew to his face. “Oh no! You don’t think it was… _her_?!”

Meklavar didn’t even need to ask who he was talking about. “I can’t say that would surprise me. I’m sure she’d love to see her almost-son killed off and her almost-husband and his wife left bereft…” She sank her chin onto her knees.

“Oh man…” Block had another revelation. “So that’s why the disease hasn’t affected us! She wants him to die and us to suffer.” He began to weep again. How could anyone do something so wicked? How could anyone even _think_ of doing something so wicked? It was a struggle enough for him to work out their nemesis’ motivations!

“Is the witch’s daughter bound to the same curse as her mother?” asked Valayun. The others silently had to admit, that was a pretty good question.

“If I remember correctly, the curse only affected the mother,” explained Alfor, “The daughter did not create the circle that trapped Block or try to harm him later on. I don’t even know if she’s a full witch.”

“Yeah…me neither,” responded the young sorcerer, “She was sure ugly enough to be one though…”

“If she is not a full witch, that could mean she has turned to sorcery.” Alfor looked from side to side, seemingly searching for something. “Do you have a tablet? I will need to write her down on a list of potential subjects. If we can find out who did this to your son, perhaps we can find a cure.”

_A cure._ What would he have given for one of those all those years ago…?

A few minutes later, Block had found a large slate and some chalk. The group proceeded to brainstorm all the villains Block and Meklavar had fought on their adventures together, without the rest of their friends, who could potentially have brought this terrible mischief upon their son. Block had visions of the slab being covered in so many names it would been impossible to know where to start. However, though many candidates were suggested, it was frequently reported that the subject in question was actually dead, having been either slain by Block and Meklavar or had died of other causes some when after being defeated. Alfor was very knowledgeable about what menaces were still active in the nearby lands. The list ended up being whittled down to just five names.

One of the people suggested was a thief who had gone missing some months ago after being released from gaol, presumed dead, but nothing was entirely certain. However, there was no way they knew how to find him, so it was now down to just four. One of the four was an elderly giant who had already been getting a little too old for crime sprees at the time of his defeat and was now bedridden. Alfor knew this from some of the old man’s neighbours, when he passed through a giant village not long ago. It seemed reasonable to narrow down the list to three.

Another suspect was a dwarf named Bandonmor Meklavar vaguely was acquainted with from her mining days. He was very greedy and it did not surprise her when she had to apprehend him years later for thievery. He was in gaol now, but Meklavar knew him well enough to think that wouldn’t stop him. It was possible he could have hired someone to do his dirty work if he’d been unable to come into contact with their son.

Yet another person on the list was an ogre named Terrig, who was imprisoned in another gaol. Ogres were infamous for eating infants, rather than trying to kill them with diseases, but that wasn’t enough to rule him out. Block and Meklavar had captured him while he was working for a wicked enchantress, whom they managed to kill in battle. It had been in the middle of winter and the pair was already struggling with the flu, but they’d persevered (helped by thermal underwear and plenty of chicken soup and bread dunked in honey).

Last but not least was the witch’s daughter (it occurred to the group that they never did actually find out her name…) So far, she seemed like the person with the strongest motive.

Block went back to tending to his son while Pike, Valayun and Jiro discussed their latest mission – to visit the suspects on the list and determine just who was trying to get revenge on Block and Meklavar.

“Block and I won’t be coming with you this time,” said Meklavar, “Both of us need to stay with our son.”

“I’ll help you on your quest,” offered Alfor, holding up something they all suddenly recognised. It was the talisman he’d lent to Jiro when they defeated the imp Elmertrislin, two and a half years ago. Right before Afen was born… “Without this, I don’t think you’d be able to find the suspects. Also, I know a lot of prison guards and can get some extra information out of them.”

Pike yawned loudly. “I just hope you’re not planning on setting off right away, ‘cos I seriously need some rest before I’m going anywhere.”

“As important as this quest is, I have to agree with you,” said Jiro, “Meklavar? Do you mind if we stay over for the night?”

“Oh sure. I’ll fetch you some bedding.” Meklavar got up and went to her and Block’s bedroom. When she came back, her arms were laden with blankets and pillows. “I’m afraid we’ve only got two sets of spare bedding now Afen has his own room. Valayun, do you mind if you sleep in the same bed as me?” Her voice was getting husky from exhaustion. “It’s Block’s turn to stay up and watch Afen.”

That explained her being considerably more tired than her husband. “Not at all,” replied Valayun, “I haven’t brought my nightie, so I hope you don’t mind if I sleep in my bodysuit. It’s awfully dirty after our adventure today.” She tugged at it again, trying to shake off some more of the earth that was still clinging to it.

“I might have something you can wear. Could be a little short though…”

Once Jiro and Pike had set up their beds downstairs (and Alfor had walked back to the tavern he was already staying in), Valayun and Meklavar set about getting ready for bed. The elf woman was somewhat surprised her tomboyish friend had a dressing table in her room, upon which were a brush, comb and some containers. Still, her hair had grown much longer now and needed a lot more looking after than a pixie crop.

Valayun (now in Meklavar’s winter nightie – which fit her rather well considering her friend didn’t even come up to her shoulders – and it came a little above her wrists and ankles) sat in front of the vanity and styled her own waist-long hair into a plait, while Meklavar changed into her pyjamas. Valayun was also stunned when she saw what the dwarf’s summer nightgown looked like. Though not particularly sexy, it had a pair of thick straps and barely reached the knee, which was considered fairly immodest by both Elvish and Dwarven standards. It was white and made of cooling material.

Upon seeing her astonished face, Meklavar responded, “Block helped me choose it.” She was blushing a little, not wanting to fully explain that she’d specifically bought it with the intention of having something to wear while being intimate with her husband. It had been his suggestion as well, knowing that she liked her personal space and not wanting her to be uncomfortable while they were trying to get pregnant.

“I must say, it’s very lovely. My own summer nightgown is similar, though it’s light yellow and much longer.”

Meklavar’s hair was down and it was now visible just how long it was getting. It already reached halfway down her back! Valayun also noticed that her friend had an alarming amount of scars on her body, contrasting drastically with the daintiness of her nightie. After all these years, she’d had no idea until now they were hidden underneath her clothes. How had she acquired them? Mining accidents? Training with her axe? Thank goodness she now had a suit of armour to protect her.

It dawned on her that Block must have known about them all this time, as well as the tattoo on her upper left arm, which was a band in a dark green pattern. Valayun hadn’t seen many people with body inkings and certainly never on a woman before.

“You have a tattoo?” she said, “May I look at it?”

Meklavar drew closer and let her friend gently take hold of her arm, admiring the details of her marking.

“I got it some years back,” explained the dwarven woman, “I had to earn the title of ‘ _best axe-fighter in three lands_ ’ by winning a few contests. It was a prize for the second competition I entered. It makes me feel like a true warrior.” Normally, Meklavar would have spoken with more gusto, but she seemed to be conserving energy at the moment. Still, Valayun was glad to see her a lot chirpier than she had been earlier in the evening.

Meklavar retracted her arm, yawned and gave herself a stretch.

“Man, I really need to get some sleep tonight.” She rubbed an eye.

Valayun stood up from her stall and Meklavar seated herself. She was so tired that her friend ended up plaiting her hair for her.

“It’s been a real strain on Block and I the past couple quintants, what with Afen being ill,” she told Valayun, yawning again, “We haven’t even been able to get the laundry done or dig up any vegetables…” She yawned once again. “If we didn’t have that bowl, I don’t know what we’d do.”

While Valayun styled her friend’s hair, her attention came upon one particular strand.

“You really have been under a lot of stress lately. I’ve already found a white hair!”

“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Meklavar smiled weakly. “Block found his first grey hair this week as well.”

Valayun finished plaiting the dwarf woman’s locks and the pair of them climbed into bed. Meklavar blew out her bedside candle and they settled themselves under the blanket.

After a couple of minutes lying in the darkness, Valayun heard a croaky voice say, “Do you mind if you rub my back? Block and I like to massage each other before we fall asleep.”

“Not at all.” Valayun’s heart melted upon hearing this little revelation. She hoped when she got married that she and her husband would pamper each other in the same way…

She reached over and gently caressed Meklavar’s upper back. “Thanks,” responded the young warrior. After another minute, she seemed a lot more relaxed.

“It must have been lonely without your husband for the past couple of nights,” whispered Valayun.

“Yeah…”

Valayun stroked her for several more minutes before retracting her hand. Meklavar didn’t say anything and the elvish archer figured she must have fallen asleep. She got herself comfy and before long drifted off as well…

…

Meanwhile, Block was trying to keep himself awake by studying his sorcery books, lit by two candles. This proved rather difficult as they weren’t the most engaging of reads and he kept nodding off and then snapping back into reality. He refused to let himself drop off, utterly terrified that his son could pass away in his sleep without him even knowing.

He occasionally checked to see if Afen was still breathing and thankfully each time he was. The boy woke up in the middle of the night feeling sick again and threw up his dinner into the chamber pot. Block gave him a sip of a ginger-infused drink he’d made and put in a flask (he’d first started making it for Meklavar when she was struggling with morning sickness three years ago). The toddler started to cry, clearly fed up of being ill, and Block held him close to comfort him.

It pained him to see his son suffering almost constantly, looking so weak and thin. His own clothes were feeling a little loose from where he’d lost some of his body weight from worry. He could tell Meklavar was losing weight as well which concerned him even more, what with her already being so skinny. He could see she was starting to grow weak. The woman who had once been the best axe-fighter in three lands was slowly withering away. If they did not find a cure for their son, he did not know how much longer the boy would last and if Afen were to go, he didn’t know how long it would be before Meklavar started fading…

After Afen had settled down again, the sorcerer got on his knees and tearfully prayed to the gods, begging them to help Alfor and the others find something – anything! – to restore his little boy to health and thus avoid the horrifying vision he had of his future. Nothing broke his heart more than the thought of losing not only his precious son, but his best friend and the love of his life – the beautiful warrior Meklavar – as well…


	3. Chapter 3

 

Chapter Three

The following morning, Pike, Jiro and Valayun set off as quickly as possible. After everyone had got washed and dressed, Block (still yawning from the all-nighter he’d pulled) served them each a hearty omelette, enough to give them the energy for their trip. Meanwhile, Meklavar was upstairs, trying to get her son to drink some broth before he felt sick again.

They packed some food for the journey and headed in the direction of the place they’d arranged to meet up with Alfor the night before. Once the entire team was assembled, they headed in the direction of the first stop on the list – a prison where the dwarf Bandonmor was being held. Alfor thankfully had brought along a magical staff, which they were just about able to all fit onto.

The gaol was not far from Meklavar’s village and would have taken a considerable amount of time to get to on foot. Alfor knew one of the dwarven guards, who thankfully was the first person who came to the door when they arrived, and he took them inside the establishment, holding up a flaming torch. The walls were made of grey stone and there were doors on each side, fashioned from metal bars. The group could see the in-mates watching them from inside their cells. Most of them were dwarves, all male, and usually rather rough-looking. The dwarves all had long, scruffy beards (which could be argued was the general fashion for their people, but the unkempt look coupled with their sinister expressions was enough to give anyone the creeps) and the prisoners were generally middle-aged, with a few looking completely ancient. Their clothes were sometimes ragged and every one of them had a chain of some variety preventing them from escaping.

As the four were led through the corridor, Valayun noticed some of the men were staring at her in particular. As an attractive elvish maiden, she’d turned quite a few heads in her time, but it was easy to tell the difference between a gentleman who was merely admiring her beauty and someone who was thinking thoughts she didn’t want to know about. She slipped her hand into Pike’s, catching him by surprise. He glanced at her face, wondering what on Altea could have prompted her to do something so intimate, and then saw how uncomfortable she looked. He began to notice the lustful gazes in her direction from the criminals all around them. He hissed protectively, causing the men to turn away.

“Thank you,” whispered Valayun, squeezing his hand.

Eventually the guard guided them to the cell belonging to Bandonmor. He unlocked the door and Alfor stepped inside, the others loitering with the guard. The compartment was small, with just enough room for a simple bed, a table (upon which were some vellums for him to use for writing…although he’d probably be restricted to some form of hieroglyphics if he was illiterate like many dwarves!) and a stool. Beside his bed was a half-eaten bowl of stew and a pair of old boots, typical of the sort worn by dwarven miners. Bandonmor was tucked under his blanket, a chain extending from where his feet were located. He sat up the moment he realised he had a visitor. Like the other dwarves in the prison, he had burgundy markings on his face and an overgrown beard and hair, which was starting to recede and grey from age. He was wearing a simple brown tunic, stained with dirt from the mines.

“Are you Bandonmor?” asked Alfor.

The dwarf didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he then said all of a sudden, following it up with a somewhat sinister chuckle. He had an English accent with a slight cockney tone.

“I am the sorcerer Alfor and I need to ask you some questions. Five decaphoebs ago you were imprisoned for theft, handed over to the authorities by a dwarf named Meklavar and a sorcerer named Block. Is that correct?”

“Meklavar, huh? There’s a name I ‘aven’t heard in a while.”

“Meklavar told me that she was vaguely acquainted with you from her mining days.”

“Did she now?” Bandonmor laughed again. “I remember ‘er all right…”

His memory flashed back to almost a decade ago, not long after Meklavar had started working in the mines. They were a grim, challenging place to work. Bandonmor knew this all too well, having started mining when he was just a boy.

The tunnels were dark and claustrophobic, with dozens of miners (mostly men, though there was the occasional woman, usually single or widowed) chiselling at the walls with their picks, slaving away day and night to provide for their families.

Nalthalor always liked to stay close to his daughter, working as a team with her. Meklavar grew rather good at operating the pick and her father would hold the lantern and collect up the rocks that fell to the ground, checking to see if there was any tin among them. He had to look very closely, because his eyesight was poor and he didn’t want to take his glasses into the mines for fear they’d get broken. They would swap roles after Meklavar got tired using the pick and vice versa when Nalthalor wanted a break.

One time Bandonmor was mining right next to them while they engaged in their usual friendly banter. Meklavar was holding the lamp, clad in a dirty, ragged sleeveless top and a pair of old leggings, her feet shod with a pair of sturdy boots, considerably too large for her dainty feet. Like all the miners, she was wearing a metal hat with a candle on the front (under which was hidden her hair, still waist-length at the time) and a pair of thick gloves. Her scruffy, androgynous appearance meant he honestly wouldn’t have realised she was a girl if it hadn’t been for the fact that she didn’t have a beard (dwarves, male and female, started growing facial hair at a young age, but most girls took potions to stop this from happening).

The old miner mostly kept to himself, not really paying attention to what the father and daughter were saying. He didn’t notice Meklavar flexing her muscles and admiring her silhouette while her father paused from the hard labour, wiping his grimy brow with his kerchief.

“I can’t believe how strong I’m getting from using that pick!” said Meklavar proudly, “It’s only been a couple phoebs, but I’m already getting so buff!”

Her father laughed. “I’ve been waiting for twenty five decaphoebs.”

Nalthalor was a skinny, middle-aged man, a few inches shorter than his real-world counterpart Sam, with shaggy, slightly overgrown grey hair, a thick moustache and a goatee (frequently trimmed as to avoid it getting overly long – dwarves’ facial hair could grow to extraordinary lengths and some had beards down to their ankles!), as well as maroon dwarven markings. He was wearing a ragged, grubby dark grey tunic and brown leggings.

“I can’t wait to show my brother when he returns from the war. I’ve really grown since he last saw me. I must be the tallest girl my age in the village!”

There were two types of dwarves – those who had heads the size of non-dwarves (elves, mages etc.) but much shorter arms and legs, and those who had similar proportions to non-dwarves but were noticeably shorter. All of Meklavar’s family happened to be of the latter variety.

Nalthalor didn’t reply, but rather looked reminiscent. It had been a long time since he last saw or even heard about his son, who was serving in the dwarven army several lands away.

While the pair were talking, Bandonmor had been hammering away at the rock face and had managed to loosen rather a lot of rock. He looked through it and found a little bit of tin.

“There’s never any gold…” he grumbled to himself, collecting the metal all the same, “My cousin Ludrick says he’s found tons of it in his mine…lucky bastard.”

This caught Nalthalor’s attention, who wasn’t sure whether or not he should remind his associate it was improper to swear in front of a lady, even if she worked in a tough job as though she was a boy. Did he even realise Meklavar was a girl and not just a clean-shaven young man like her older brother? (Being a rather pretty boy, Aeryndal hadn’t suited a beard and had started shaving it off less than a year after it began growing.)

“Of course there’s no gold!” Meklavar said all of a sudden, “We work in a tin mine, not a gold mine!”

“Indeed we do…” responded Bandonmor, not even looking up from the sorry pile of tin he’d gathered, “If this was a gold mine, I wouldn’t be stuck living in a stinking ‘ovel, only able to afford bread and pottage. I’d be living somewhere luxurious with servants waiting on me ‘and and foot like me cousin…that’s the life for me.”

“It would be nice if my family and I didn’t live in such a small, shabby apartment,” said Nalthalor, “I’d like for us to live somewhere it didn’t get so cold in the winter, but I guess I should be grateful for what we’ve got. So many families are homeless these days, with barely enough food to survive. I’m glad my lovely wife and daughter aren’t going to bed hungry – and that we even have beds! We may be poor, but we’re happy.”

Meklavar grinned. “I’m happy if it means I get as buff as a warrior from working here!” She flexed her skinny arm and her father chuckled.

“If you want to become a soldier like Aeryndal, your mother and I won’t let anything stop you.”

“Oh sweet! Someday I’m gonna make you and Mom proud of me.”

Nalthalor smiled, feeling an abundance of love for his feisty young daughter he’d laboured so hard to provide for over a course of many years. He wished more than anything that circumstances were better and she didn’t have to work in such a dangerous job beside him, but in the here and now, it was good to be content.

Meanwhile, Bandonmor looked at the pair darkly. They just didn’t get it, did they? Why just settle for what you already have when you could achieve so much more…?

All those years ago, he had no idea the only real achievement he would have ended up making was being confined to prison, never quite able to forget the irony of who had sent him there.

“I don’t know if you’re aware,” continued Alfor, “But Block and Meklavar have a young son, who is now suffering from a seemingly incurable disease.”

“They’re married, eh? Always did wonder who that bloke was… Well, I’m sorry to ‘ear that, but I don’t know what it’s got to do with me!” He chuckled again, this time on the verge of cruelty.

Alfor put his foot down. “The illness is incredibly rare and can only have been created artificially. Do you have any experience with sorcery?”

Bandonmor raised his eyebrows. “So, you think it’s me that’s got their lad sick? Well, I can see ‘ow you might come to that conclusion…” He sank back onto his pillow. “Sorcery, eh? I almost wish I could say I’d dabbled in it from time to time, but I don’t ‘ave the slightest clue about casting spells and saying mumbo jumbo. I’m just a simple uneducated miner.” He laughed again.

“Do you have any acquaintances familiar with sorcery?”

“Nope. All me mates are just the same as me.”

“That’s all I needed to know,” said Alfor, walking out of the cell. The guard locked up behind him.

Once the group had walked a safe distance away from where Bandonmor was being kept, Alfor had a further discussion with his guard friend.

“Has he had any visitors over the past few decaphoebs?” he enquired.

The guard thought a bit and tried to recount them. He certainly didn’t recall any of them being sorcerers though – of the few he’d had, they were indeed mostly other dwarves from his village, who were equally unlikely to know much about magic as him.

“I still think he can’t be trusted,” was Pike’s verdict, “What if he’s lying and is secretly an all-powerful sorcerer hell bent on ruining Block and Meklavar’s lives?”

“I don’t trust him either,” responded Alfor, “But it seems extremely unlikely that he’s the culprit behind this case. Has he been out of his cell since he arrived here?”

“Not without a guard accompanying him,” answered Alfor’s friend, “Though he’s never even tried to escape or anything.”

Alfor stroked his beard. “It looks like the search is still on…”

“Our next suspect is the witch of Venric’s daughter,” said Jiro, “I think she sounds a lot more likely than that guy we just saw. She has both a strong motivation to get revenge on Block and Meklavar and possibly the skills to accomplish it as well. We need to pay her close attention in case she tries to hide anything from us.”

Alfor had located where she was living earlier and once the team had clambered onto his staff, he knew exactly where to take them.

…

While this was all going on, Block and Meklavar were tending to their son. Over the course of the morning, the boy began feeling sick again, threw up his breakfast and cried. Block nearly started crying as well at the sight of his pain, but when he saw how Meklavar refused to get emotional in front of their child, he decided to be tough like her and fought back his tears. He gave Afen another swig of the ginger drink, though even that didn’t seem to be helping him keep his food down.

Meklavar then stroked his brow, gently calming him. “You’ve got so much ahead of you, little guy.”

Block smiled. “We always said you were our little warrior. You’re so brave, just like your beautiful mother.” He kissed Meklavar on the cheek. “She’s my warrior too.” He got a particularly tender expression and took hold of her hand. Meklavar smiled back.

She then turned to her son again. “One day you’re going to grow up and be big and strong like your Dad. Do you want that?”

Afen nodded.

“You keep fighting, little guy.” She took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. After a while, she said, “Hey wait, I forgot – yesterday I promised that I’d tell you the story of how I became the best axe-fighter in three lands before you went to bed. I guess I got kind of distracted when our guests turned up. You didn’t mind Uncle Pike and Aunt Valayun telling you bedtime stories instead, did you?”

Afen shook his head.

“Do you want me to tell you the story now?” Meklavar struggled not to let the lump in her throat show through her speech. She wanted to make the most of every moment she still had with him, not knowing how much longer her son would last.

Afen smiled and nodded.

“Well, let me think…” She placed two fingers on her chin and looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to start right from the very beginning, when I was just a twelve-decaphoeb-old girl…”

…

A decade ago, Meklavar had lived with her parents in a dwarf mining village. The houses were moderately sized and fairly well-built, but poverty was so high in the area that few families could afford more than a single room to live in. Meklavar’s home consisted of an acceptable bedsit in a house occupied by three other dwarf families, who shared the downstairs kitchen-diner with them, often pooling together their resources when one family had little money for food.

With that in mind, it was especially concerning one particular night when Meklavar went to bed with her stomach growling. She never complained about it, but her parents could easily hear from across the room. Their beds consisted of simple mattresses stuffed with straw and ragged blankets, prone to getting bed bugs in the warmer months (the family had suffered bites from them rather frequently over the years) and giving little protection during the coolest months (Meklavar would sleep with her parents for warmth during the winter).

Nalthalor began whispering to his wife (their only way of having private conversations). Meklavar ignored them, trying to settle down to sleep, despite her uncomfortable hunger. After several minutes, her father turned onto his side and addressed her.

“Meklavar? Your mother and I have been thinking. This war’s taken a toll on all our families. Without Aeryndal helping me in the mines, we’ve been really struggling to make ends meet. Would you mind if you took over the housework duties?”

“Uh…I guess not…” responded Meklavar, suddenly sitting up, “Wait? Why’s this…?”

Her parents sat up and looked at each other. They both nodded and then faced their daughter.

“I’ve decided to help your father in the mines,” said her mother Elenthiel, “You’ll need to look after our home while I’m away. It’s the only way we’ll have enough money to get by.”

Meklavar’s eyes widened. “Mom? Are you sure you’re OK with this?”

“We have no choice, sweetheart,” she replied, “This village has lost so many of its breadwinners because of the war. I’ll have to try and fill your brother’s shoes until he returns.”

Meklavar tried to imagine her mother working beside Nalthalor in the mines, her long dresses getting tattered and streaked with dirt. Would she even be able to fit her waist-long hair under a helmet or would it get ruined with filth?

“Do you think you can manage on your own?” asked Nalthalor.

“Well, I’m not a great cook, but I think our neighbours will take care of most of that. I guess I’d better start getting used to doing the chores in case I get married someday…” Her tone of voice suggested she wasn’t all that keen about the prospect.

Her parents would often whisper to themselves about their plans for her future when they thought she couldn’t hear them. They saw she was growing into a pretty young woman and knew it may well be only a few years before some gentleman asked for her hand in marriage. Though she knew they wouldn’t accept an even slightly unworthy suitor, the idea of ending up a housewife like her mother didn’t seem that appealing. Becoming a warrior like her brother, however, now that was something she liked the sound of. Ever since she could remember, she’d loved play-fighting with her Dad and Aeryndal. She was a fierce little thing, sometimes having to be asked by her mother to give them a rest after she’d got carried away. In all their games, she pretended to be a brave warrior, who took on dragons and ogres and wicked witches, rescuing prisoners and seeking out treasure. Even though this was just a childhood fantasy, the thought of being an adventurer had never lost its appeal…

“I hope you don’t mind starting tomorrow,” said Elenthiel, “We need to earn enough money to pay our rent as soon as we can.”

“Sure,” replied the dwarf girl indifferently and she lay back down on her bed.

She didn’t fall asleep, but rather lay awake for ages, thinking about what her parents had just said. Her mother working in the mines just seemed…wrong. Though independent, she was also much better at completing feminine duties than her tomboy daughter. Was she even strong enough to lift a pickaxe? Meklavar had tried on many occasions to lift her father’s pick, in the hope of fantasising about being a brave sword-wielding warrior whilst holding it, but it was too heavy! She wished more than anything that she could get strong enough to be able to lift it, strong enough to hold a weapon, strong enough to become a warrior…

“Hey!” she sat up all of a sudden, “I have an idea.”

Nalthalor stirred. “Go shoot,” he said, turning onto his side and facing her.

“What if I started working in the mines instead of Mom?!”

Her father looked thunderstruck. He and his wife sat up abruptly.

“Meklavar, you can’t! It’s too dangerous,” he protested.

“Please, sweetie. You don’t have to do this,” said Elenthiel, “I’ll be fine, honest. You don’t need to go in my place.”

“I’m sure I’d be much better at mining than mopping floors,” persisted Meklavar, putting her hands on her hips and looking proud, “Perhaps working there would help me train to become a warrior…”

Nalthalor and Elenthiel had heard her mention this particular dream all too many times before. As much as they wanted to support her, becoming a soldier was a difficult enough job for a boy, let alone a girl. There were only a few females in the dwarven army, so it was possible, but it was hard to picture their scrawny daughter ever being strong enough to lift an axe, let alone fight in battle. Even so, the pair was very open-minded. If becoming a warrior was what she wanted to do, they were at least going to let her try…

“Are you sure about this, Meklavar?” queried Nalthalor, “I’ve seen you struggle with my pickaxe. Do you really think you’d be able to use one?”

“Sure. Just start me off with a small one and I’ll gradually get stronger. It’s no big deal…I’d much rather be working in the mines than be stuck alone here all quintant.”

With a determined attitude like that, her father knew there was nothing he could say to stop her.

She set out to work with him the next day, after doing a few dozen press-ups to try and warm up her muscles. It took a while before she was able to hold a full-sized pickaxe without assistance, but she adjusted to the field of work astonishingly well. Nalthalor was often awestruck by her enthusiasm for her job and had to warn her to be careful whenever she got carried away. After many years, he’d seen many disasters and become cautious, but Meklavar was so new to the line of work. Despite him yelling, “Be careful!” one time a large chunk of rock fell onto her legs before she was able to jump out the way, thankfully not injuring her badly, but her mother insisted on her having two weeks of bedrest and medicine from the local alchemist until she returned to the mines. Her carelessness caused her to pick up several scars in her early days (though her mother cleaned the gashes the best she could), but as she became more experienced, her accidents became fewer.

Every night, Elenthiel would give each of them a warm bath, making certain to clean off any wounds the best she could, taking as little time as possible before their neighbours needed to use the kitchen. She would wrap them both up in blankets and send them to their flat. Usually, she washed Meklavar first (it took longer for her waist-length hair to dry) and the girl would already be warming herself by the fireplace, trying not to look in her parents’ direction, by the time they had to leave for their room. (She’d spent most of her life having to avoid catching sight of her family members at embarrassing times and vice versa, because of the lack of privacy in their living quarters.)

Upstairs was much chillier and Elenthiel always dried off her husband first, for fear he’d catch his death of cold. He’d been exposed to dust in the mines over the course of many years and when he was younger hadn’t even bothered trying to protect himself. He was prone to coughing a lot over the winter, which worried his wife and daughter, and always insisted that Meklavar had a kerchief around her neck whenever she went into the mines to go over her nose if need be. He made certain he always had one as well.

This arrangement went on for almost a year before Meklavar made a major decision. She’d now grown especially good at operating a pick and had decided if she became a soldier, her weapon of choice would be an axe. Her family now had enough money to purchase one for her and the girl practiced with it whenever she could. She would ask boys in the village to fight with her, which really set her parents on edge, fearing that without any armour she’d be badly hurt. At the same time, they couldn’t afford any for her so she would train in her normal clothes. Meklavar usually wore burgundy trousers, an oversized off-white blouse and a dark brown leather waistcoat (all of which used to belong to her brother) that she thought looked rather fetching, coupled with a brown fur cloak when the colder weather arrived.

Her long hair was difficult to manage, often getting horribly dirty in the mines (despite Elenthiel’s efforts to stuff it under her helmet) and being difficult to tie firmly out the way when she was practicing her fighting skills. One fateful day, her hair came out of its bun while she was engaged in an intense battle and her opponent accidentally took a massive chunk out of it. When she returned home, her mother cried when she saw what had happened and quickly took her to a barber.

When Meklavar arrived in his shop, her hair was down and it was obvious that part of it had been cut to the shoulder. Elenthiel was expecting her daughter to have it all cut that length, but after the barber had shown her a few drawings of possible hairstyles she could have, she found one she really liked and asked him to cut her hair in that style. She sat on a chair in front of a mirror and he began chopping away at it. Her mother’s mouth widened as the shop floor became buried with long tufts of hair.

When the barber had finished, Meklavar stood up, her feet in a pile of long hair.

“What do you think, Mom?” she asked, fingering her new hairstyle, “I look so cool now!”

Elenthiel was speechless. Her beautiful daughter looked like an entirely different person. She’d had it cut very short on the bottom, but it was long enough on the top to form into bangs, which had a surprising amount of volume. If Meklavar had told her earlier that she was going to hack off all her hair, she would have been utterly horrified, but now she was shocked for an entirely different reason. It actually really suited her!

“I hope you don’t mind I cut it as short as a guy’s hair.” Meklavar looked at the floor.

Elenthiel put a hand on her shoulder. “If it’s what you want, then I don’t mind at all.”

Meklavar looked at her mother and smiled.

Elenthiel then cupped her daughter’s cheek. “I never would have guessed you’d look so good with short hair. You’ve got such a pretty face and this cut really flatters it.”

Meklavar ruffled her pixie cut. “I’m glad I don’t have to tie it back for training any more. I really should have had it cut ages ago. I’ve wanted it short ever since I started working in the mines so it wouldn’t take so long to wash, but…I wasn’t sure what you and Dad would think. I mean, guys don’t really like short hair on girls, right?”

Her mother understood what she was getting at.

“Meklavar, as much as your father and I would love to see you happily married someday, that might not happen for a long time or maybe not at all. Right now, it’s more important that you focus on your more immediate goals – like becoming an axe-fighter. You know we’ll support you no matter what.”

She kissed her daughter’s forehead.

“I wouldn’t mind getting married someday,” said Meklavar, “But only if I could find a guy who was my best friend and not just my husband. I’ve never really been that interested in romance…” _Or sex_ , she thought. Her mother had explained to her some time ago how procreation worked, and it kind of weirded her out. She’d seen her Dad and brother at enough less-than-discreet moments to know full-well how men’s bodies were different from women’s. The thought of…actually having sex with someone sounded rather gross. Still, if she was married to someone who respected her personal space, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad…

“That’s exactly what you should be looking for in a husband. Your father and I became friends long before we were lovers. You need to take time for a relationship to form so it will be strong…”

Though Meklavar never forgot these words of her mother’s, the next few years of her life became incredibly busy. Before she was even fourteen years old, she was getting so good at fighting with her axe she decided to make a major step – entering into a competition. She trained for weeks on end before the contest, doing push-ups and other exercises to warm up her muscles every morning before work.  A few days prior to the event, on her fourteenth birthday, her parents bought her a present she’d been dreaming of ever since she’d first started wanting to become a warrior.

They’d already taken her to a tailor a week before who measured her and then took her measurements to the blacksmith. Meklavar had been hardly able to wait until the big day. Finally, it arrived and they took her back to the blacksmith, who unveiled what he’d created – a magnificent suit of armour, just for her. It was a little bit big, for it was expected she’d grow slightly taller over the next few years, but other than that was completely perfect.

Meklavar wore it with pride every day from then on. Now that she no longer had to worry about getting badly hurt in battle, there was nothing stopping her! Much to her parents’ delight, she won the competition, despite all of her opponents being male. They were the big, brutish types, but she was quick and nimble, which she used to her advantage at every opportunity. Elenthiel would patch her up between sessions, but her armour protected her from getting more than a few scratches. After winning the contest, she moved onto other, bigger competitions and eventually made it to the land’s championship.

Her parents attended every event, cheering her on as she battled her way through them, having many close calls where she almost lost… After she’d defeated her last opponent, the contest host lifted up her arm and the crowd went wild. Her mother and father rushed into the arena and embraced her after she’d been handed the trophy and prize money, unable to believe that their little girl was now crowned the best axe-fighter in the whole land.

The trophy had pride of place in the special box where her family kept all their most special items, such as the Jewel of Jitan, a priceless family heirloom. Meklavar continued to train hard, planning to travel to the championships that would be held in the next land several months away. However, before that day arrived, something very special happened. The war finally came to an end and Aeryndal returned home after having been away for three years. The family had barely even heard the good news before he suddenly turned up on their doorstep one afternoon. His mother opened the door and got a wonderful shock when she saw her son, a little older and taller, having acquired a few scars (including a prominent one on his cheek) and a shoulder length ponytail. He was still clad in his armour, which had a different design to Meklavar’s, being less clunky and more like Jiro’s. She flung her arms around him and wept. He was crying too.

When Nalthalor and Meklavar returned home from the mines, Aeryndal came to greet them at the door. His little sister ran as fast as she could when she spotted his silhouette in the doorframe, pouncing on him in a loving cuddle, almost crushing him.

“Meklavar?” he cried, “Is it really you? You look so different!”

His sister let go of him. “Aeryn, you’re not going to believe what happened while you were away! I started training to become an axe-fighter, got into a big competition and won! I’m the best axe-fighter in the whole land now.”

“What? NO WAY!” He hugged her again. “I can’t believe my little sister is an axe-fighting champion. Things really have changed over the last three decaphoebs.”

Their Dad had caught up with her by now and inside the house, Elenthiel had come downstairs to greet them. They both embraced the pair, turning it into a big family cuddle.

Eventually, the family let go of each other. “You look real different too,” Meklavar said to her brother, “Your hair’s grown out a lot since I last saw you.”

“So, do you like it?” He rested his chin on two fingers and looked flirtatious, his teeth glinting. “It really attracts the chicks.”

Meklavar pulled off her helmet, revealing her pixie cut.

Aeryn’s jaw dropped in delighted surprise. “You sheared all your hair off?!” He laughed and fingered her hair.

“It suits her, doesn’t it?” interjected their mother.

Aeryndal placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “You really have become a warrior now, little sis.”

Meklavar beamed.

He attended her next tournament a few months later (wearing a pair of glasses – much like his Dad, he was short-sighted, which had made serving on the battlefield even more challenging than normal) with her parents and cheered louder than anyone when she won, becoming the best axe-fighter in not one, but two lands! He was really impressed when she showed him her new tattoo (one of the prizes) after she’d had it done. Not many warriors were ever bestowed such an honour and he was immensely proud of her.

Before Meklavar turned fifteen, she attended yet another contest, her biggest one yet. After winning it, she became the best axe-fighter in THREE lands. Her family were overjoyed, unable to believe that she’d come so far in two and a half years. She continued to work hard in the mines, now with her brother at her side as well as her father, and they were more prosperous than ever before. Despite their good fortune, they tried their hardest to use their money wisely, often spending it on others who were needier than them. They helped the family who lived in the attic by giving them some cash towards getting their leaking roof fixed and would buy food for beggars they saw on their way to work. Meklavar and her brother started spending their evenings at taverns together, drinking beer, introducing themselves to strangers and merrymaking with their old friends. When Meklavar started to get a little drunk, Aeryndal would know it was time to escort her home. Sometimes when he walked in through the door, she’d be leaning on his shoulder and giggling constantly. Their parents would thank him for being a responsible big brother as they all settled down for bed.

Life was good and the family was happy. It seemed like everything was just getting better and better…until one fateful day.

Elenthiel had been busy cooking the dinner one evening, with all the building’s residents crowded around the table. All of them were mothers and fathers, attending to children of various ages, and it was a big task catering for everyone. Once supper was over and they’d cleaned all the plates, the family headed back to their bedsit to relax. It was then they made a horrible discovery – they’d been burgled.

Once they’d recovered from their initial shock, they investigated what had been stolen. The thief hadn’t been interested in Meklavar’s prizes, but had rather taken their family heirloom, the Jewel of Jitan. This called for serious measures and the very next morning Meklavar had set off on a daring quest to retrieve it. While walking through the woods, she chanced upon a young sorcerer, who was on a quest of his own. His village had been turned to stone by a fearsome wizard named Dakin and he was going to defeat him. Meklavar opted that they stick together and what was meant to be a temporary partnership ended up becoming a much bigger adventure than they’d ever imagined…

…

“So that’s how your mother and I met,” said Block, “We went on many more quests together after we’d defeated Dakin. Eventually we got married and decided to have a baby.”

“That’s you, little guy.” Meklavar ruffled her son’s hair. “You mean the whole world to us, you know that?” She kissed his forehead. “Do you mind if we give you a bath today? It will help cool you down.”

Afen smiled.

“I’m just glad you’re feeling better, little fella.” Block rubbed his hand over Afen’s blanket. “I know how much I hate being sick. That happens rather a lot when I’m riding my staff…well, maybe not so much now. I’ve gotten a lot better at keeping it down.”

Meklavar got off the bed. “I’ll go heat up the water.”

She then headed downstairs to set up Afen’s bath, while Block sat watching his son, trying to make the most of every last moment he had with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four  
The witch of Venric lived with her daughter in a hovel. There was simply nothing else you could call it.  
The building was round with walls made of roughly cut blocks and the roof was a complete mess of straw, resembling a rather large bird’s nest. Several items of witchy clothing were draped on top of it, possibly there to dry, and there was a small chimney, as well as a fence badly constructed from twigs running around the dwelling. The doorway was barricaded by just a few planks of wood. Jiro walked right up to the makeshift door and knocked on it, to see if anyone was in.  
After a short while, one of the boards shifted. “What is it?” hissed a woman grumpily.  
“I am Jiro, twin brother of Takashi Shirogane. I need to ask you some questions regarding your connection to Block the sorcerer.”  
Another plank was removed and the team could make out just who Jiro was speaking to. It was a young woman, perhaps no older than twenty-five, with long, straggly blonde hair, clad in an old brown shawl. Her nose had a subtle point that might not have made her look ugly if it hadn’t been for one thing – a disgusted look upon her face.  
“What do you want to know about Block?” she snapped.  
“Are you the witch of Venric’s daughter?”  
The woman confirmed this.  
“I am aware you were engaged to Block some decaphoebs ago, but your engagement was cancelled after Block married Meklavar.”  
Well, that’s the more sanitised version of the story…thought Pike.  
The girl scowled harder. She had never even realised that Block had got married while they were engaged!  
“Block and Meklavar now have a two-decaphoeb-old child, who is very sick with a rare illness that could only have been created through sorcery. Do you have any experience in sorcery?”  
“What would I need to practice sorcery for?” the woman spat, “I’m a witch!”  
Now that was (seemingly) confirmed, Jiro now began to think it was time to mentally cross her off his list, but just to be certain, he decided to probe a little further.  
“Do you maintain any resentment towards Block for marrying another woman?” The witch looked even more shocked. Jiro’s features grew stern. “I’m sorry if this is intrusive, but this is a matter of life or death. If we do not find a cure for Afen, he will die.”  
The woman crossed her arms, hiding her hands under her shawl. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never even heard of the little brat. Even if I was angry enough with Block to get revenge on him and his wife, I wouldn’t know where they lived. I’ve tried to forget about him and move on. I’m afraid there have been men who’ve broken my heart far more than he ever did. If I wanted to get revenge on someone, it would be my last boyfriend…lying toad. I should have turned him into a toad. Or maybe the one before him…”  
“We’re sorry to bother you,” said Jiro, “I wish you good luck with any future relationships.”  
Oh man, she’s going to need it! thought Pike. I can’t believe Block nearly ended up married to this old misery-guts.  
The witch blocked up her door and the team walked away.  
“If it isn’t Bandonmor or the witch of Venric’s daughter, we’ve only got one suspect left on our list,” recounted Valayun, “I only hope to goodness it is him, or we will be quite stumped!”  
“The ogre Terrig is incarcerated in a gaol many miles from here,” explained Alfor, “We should have something to eat before our journey.” Though Meklavar’s village and the nearby penitentiary was quite a way from where she currently lived, it was also in the complete opposite direction to the prison they were planning to visit, making the witch’s house the ideal place to stop halfway.  
Everyone agreed that was a good idea and stopped to dine on the food Block had given them.  
…  
Meanwhile, it was lunchtime at Block and Meklavar’s house as well. They’d finished giving Afen a bath and Meklavar was seated in her rocking chair. The boy was sat on his mother’s lap, wrapped in a blanket. His torso was left bare though, in the hope it might cool him.  
Block conjured a plateful of bread, sausages and quince, which he placed in front of his wife and child, in the hope it might tempt them. Meklavar cut up the food and fed her son a few mouthfuls. She then pushed the plate towards Block. “I’m not really hungry.”  
Block pushed it back. “Please, Meklavar! You’re nothing but skin and bones. You’ll starve if you keep skipping meals like this.”  
He stuck a fork into a hunk of sausage and moved it nearer her mouth. Meklavar opened her lips and ate the piece of food. Block watched carefully as she chewed to make certain she swallowed.  
Once she’d eaten it, she smiled. “Thanks, Block. I’ve really lost my appetite lately.”  
“Yeah, me too, and that’s really saying something. I’m not exactly my fat, jolly self at the moment, am I?”  
“Mom…” croaked Afen, looking a little green. She barely had time to react before he was sick all over her dinner, before he burst into tears again.  
Block then cleaned up the mess while Meklavar calmed down her crying son. She cradled him in her arms whilst gently rocking in her chair, whispering, “You’re my brave little soldier, you know that? Don’t give up just yet, little guy. Your aunt and uncles will be coming home soon with a medicine to make you feel better…”  
She felt a little guilty for telling a white lie, but it was the only way she felt she could reassure him. She closed her eyes and continued to rock the infant.  
Block used his magic basin to create two bowls of white pea soup but when he turned to give one to Meklavar, he found that she didn’t respond when he tried to hand it to her.  
“Meklavar…are you praying?”  
His wife nodded, a tear leaking from one of her eyelids.  
Block set the bowl on the floor beside her and took hold of her hand. “I’ll pray with you.”  
Meklavar had never been a particularly spiritual woman. It was Block who was more attentive to things like that and the main reason they attended church each week with their son (the sorcerer had been brought up regularly going with his own family). However, during the past few days he’d occasionally caught her kneeling at the side of their bed, audibly begging the gods to spare their son. He wasn’t even sure if she believed in an afterlife, but he began to wonder if she’d been contemplating the existence of one lately.  
After a few minutes, Meklavar opened her eyes. She saw Block knelt beside her, a tear trickling down his cheek. Before long, he opened his eyes and handed her the bowl of soup. It was still warm and Meklavar began to eat. Once she’d had her fill, she carried her son up to bed and tucked him in.  
“You want to hear another story?” she asked him. The boy nodded. “What do you want this time, little fella?” Normally, she would have secretly hoped he wouldn’t ask for the story of their wedding or his birth again, having recounted them all too many times, but right now, she honestly didn’t care. “Do you want to hear more about Grandma and Gramps? Or your Uncle Aeryn? Uncle Pike? Aunt Valayun?”  
Afen nodded again and Meklavar figured she’d have to come up with something that was about all the people she’d just mentioned.  
“What if you start again from where you just broke off?” suggested Block.  
“OK. I’ll tell you some stories about your family. Let’s see what I can remember…”  
…  
After having been on a few quests together with Block and her other friends, Meklavar returned to her old life. She spent her days working in the mines and her evenings telling her family all about the wonderful adventures she’d embarked on over the past few months. They rather liked the sound of her new friends and hoped she would be able to meet with them again sometime.  
One day, Elenthiel was sweeping the kitchen when someone knocked at the door. When she opened it, she saw a young man standing there. He had medium brown skin, a bowl haircut with a skull cap, a plaited beard and was dressed in a gold, black and yellow robe, with a green cloak. He was carrying a staff and looked clearly like a mage of some kind.  
“Does Meklavar live here?” he asked. “I heard from some local bard that she lives in this house…oh man, I hope that doesn’t make me sound like a total creep! I’m real sorry! I’m not trying to hurt her, I swear.”  
“You must be Block,” said Elenthiel with a smile.  
The sorcerer was caught by surprise. “Wait…you know who I am? Did Meklavar tell you…” He broke off and got a better look at the woman’s face. It was heart-shaped with large brown eyes and a snub nose, kind of like someone else he knew… “…are you related to Meklavar?”  
“I’m her mother.”  
“I’m real sorry to turn up like this, but there’s this snake monster that’s been wreaking havoc in my village and I was wondering if Meklavar could help me defeat it. Is she in at the moment?”  
“She’s out working in the mines, but she’ll probably be home in about a varga. Would you like it if I made you some broth while you wait for her?”  
“Oh, sure. Thanks.”  
Block started helping Elenthiel prepare the broth, cutting up the vegetables and suggesting ingredients from the spice rack, as well as fashioning some bread rolls to go with it. The dwarf woman was very impressed with his cookery skills. Her daughter had mentioned that he loved to eat, but she hadn’t realised he was such a good chef as well.  
When Meklavar got back from the mines with her Dad and brother, she found her friend sat on an armchair in the kitchen, clutching a steaming bowl of broth and chatting with Elenthiel. He looked like a giant, what with Meklavar’s mother being only five feet tall and everything in the room built specifically for dwarves (Meklavar’s family was ironically one of the tallest in her village!)  
“Block!” she cried, dropping her axe and rushing over to cuddle him.  
“Meklavar! I’ve missed you so much!” After they’d embraced, he proceeded to tell her about the mission he wanted her to help him with. Soon the other families came into the kitchen for dinnertime and he helped Elenthiel dish up the broth and rolls.  
Aeryndal messed around with some of his little boy neighbours, like he usually did, but what caught Nalthalor’s attention was that Block also made an effort to talk to the children. He was actually pretty good with them. His manner was very gentle and sweet. To think that this lovely young man was his daughter’s friend and very close to her as well, judging by the way they acted around each other.  
Once all the dinner was served, Block sat next to Meklavar and began talking to her as she tucked into her meal. He made her laugh on several occasions and the pair seemed to get on very well. Nalthalor raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile upon his face.  
After supper, Meklavar decided to leave with Block to sort out the problem involving the monster. She hugged and accepted kisses from all three members of her family before venturing out into the dark night. After he closed the door, Nalthalor continued to have that knowing smile upon his face.  
“He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he?” he stated, “Quite the gentleman too. Our Meklavar has chosen well…”  
His wife and son noticed his expression.  
“Do you really think he could be the one…?” Elenthiel wondered aloud, a little taken aback.  
“I don’t know, but he sure seemed like a great guy,” said Aeryndal.  
This was the first of many times Block came to visit. He would escort Meklavar home each time after they’d completed quests together (always with their usual comrades) and sometimes pop in when he merely wanted to see his friend again. Pike, Jiro and Valayun also came to see her on occasion and got to know the family quite well, including Aeryn’s girlfriend, a warrior who’d served with him during the war (he did say his hair attracted the chicks, after all…) that visited him whenever she could. It warmed Nalthalor and Elenthiel’s heart to see their son moving on in life, getting closer to becoming a husband and father. It also gladdened them to watch Meklavar interact with her friends, especially Block. Though she was close to all her team-mates, the pair of them was thick as thieves.  
Eventually, Pike, Valayun and Jiro moved away and the family only saw Block from time to time. He took Meklavar on a few solo quests, each one longer and further away than the first. One time, the pair had been gone for almost a month and they had begun to worry. This wasn’t to say they hadn’t worried about her during every other quest she’d gone on – the life of a warrior was a particularly dangerous and potentially fatal one – but without any method of communicating with her, they were unable to know the reason behind her extended undertaking.  
It brought a great deal of relief when one day there was a knock at the door and who should be stood there but Block and Meklavar. Aeryndal invited them in hastily and took them up to the family’s bedsit. Meklavar’s parents were overjoyed when they saw her and smothered her in a loving cuddle, which Aeryn and Block felt obliged to join in with.  
“We were so worried something might have happened to you,” said Elenthiel.  
“Don’t worry, Mom. The warrior Meklavar lived to fight another day!”  
Once the group hug was finished, Aeryn asked, “Hey, what happened to your armour?” His younger sister was wearing an unfamiliar green dress with a laced bodice and a long-sleeved peasant blouse underneath.  
Block and Meklavar exchanged a glance. They smiled at each other fondly.  
“You go first,” said Block.  
“We were trying to stop this witch from causing trouble, but just as we thought we’d defeated her, she trapped Block in this magic circle which forced him to become engaged to her daughter…”  
“Yeah, and the only way to break to break the spell was by marrying someone else…”  
Meklavar took Block’s hand. “…so we got married.”  
For a few moments, the family didn’t know what to say. Elenthiel clapped a hand over her mouth. Then Aeryn suddenly laughed and embraced his little sister, nearly knocking the wind out of her. He lifted her up and spun around with her. Once he’d put her down, the family congratulated the young couple. Meklavar got lots of hugs and Block was patted on the back. All the while, Nalthalor had the same knowing expression on his face that he did after he’d first met Block. Elenthiel spotted it and smiled back. It turns out he’d been right all along.  
After the jubilation had calmed down, Aeryn broke some news to Meklavar. He and his girlfriend were now engaged! It was his sister’s turn to be excited for him and the siblings shared yet another embrace.  
“I hope you two are real happy together,” she said, “I know Block and I am.”  
“You’re both invited to the wedding.” Aeryn let go of her. “We’re getting married in the spring. Would you like to be a bridesmaid?”  
“Sure thing! That would be so neat. I can’t believe that soon we’re both gonna be married…”  
Nalthalor took hold of his wife’s hand. “Would you believe it? In half a dozen phoebs’ time we’ll be empty nesters. It won’t be long before we’ve got a few grandkids as well…”  
“Oh my goodness, that reminds me!” Elenthiel let go of his hand and asked Meklavar to come with her to a corner of the room for a private chat. While this was going on, Block presented Nalthalor and Aeryndal with a map of how to get to their new home and made certain they knew how to use it.  
The couple ended up staying the night and began their journey home the next day. They visited a few more times before Aeryn’s wedding the following spring. Meklavar wore the same dress she’d got married in to be a bridesmaid, coupled with a wreath of flowers around her head. Her hair was growing out and had now reached chin length, so her mother was able to French plait it. Block thought she looked so beautiful he kissed her hand before she followed her brother and his new bride down the aisle.  
Several months later, Elenthiel, Nalthalor, Aeryn and his wife made the journey to visit Block and Meklavar, whom they hadn’t seen in all too long. Upon arriving, they were gobsmacked at how lovely the couple’s house was. Instead of a shabby bedsit in a town house like Meklavar had grown up in, they had a proper cottage with a thatched roof and a charming front garden.  
Block soon came out to greet them, holding Meklavar’s hand. Something about her appearance caught Nalthalor’s attention.  
“I see your husband’s been feeding you,” he teased.  
Elenthiel noticed her daughter’s belly and gasped.  
“Oh!” cried Meklavar, her eyes turning to her bump. She’d quite forgotten they’d had no idea about the good news. “Mom, Dad, I want you to meet your first grandkid.” She placed a hand on her abdomen.  
Her family froze in delighted surprise before there were cries of excitement. Elenthiel grabbed her daughter into a long cuddle, tears spurting from her eyes.  
“It’s wonderful you’ve now become a mother,” she whispered, gently rocking Meklavar back and forth, “I hope you realise that now you’ve taken this step, you can never go back to your old life. There’ll be less time for you and your husband once you’ve got a little boy or girl running around.”  
“It’s OK, Mom. I’m ready for this. I’ve completed a lot of quests before and I guess this is just gonna be the greatest quest Block and I have ever undertaken.”  
Elenthiel let go of her and placed a hand on her daughter’s protruding belly. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Having a new life growing inside of you.” Meklavar grinned. “Were you sick a lot in the first couple phoebs after you found out you were with child?”  
“All the time…” Meklavar hated the memory of throwing up every morning and getting nauseous at the very mention of food. “But I’m feeling a lot better now. I’ve been eating a ton lately. This little one is real hungry!” She patted her stomach soundly.  
Elenthiel moved out the way as Aeryn came over to give his little sister a hug and congratulate her. He even bent down and rubbed her tummy. “Hey, is the baby moving?” he asked after noticing some movement.  
“Sure is!” said Meklavar, “It feels like it’s kicking a soccer ball.”  
“You look like you’ve swallowed a soccer ball!” joked Aeryn, rising to his full height. Meklavar playfully punched him on the arm, making him laugh.  
Nalthalor punched Block on the arm too, giving him a supportive smile – from father to father.  
They invited their folks into the cottage and showed them around. Meklavar’s parents were so impressed they jokingly suggested they could move in, and perhaps would have done so if it wasn’t for the fact there wasn’t a mine in the nearby vicinity where Nalthalor could work. Block cooked them some supper, making certain Meklavar had more than one helping.  
Aeryn watched his brother-in-law closely, thinking about how it wouldn’t be long before he was in the same position as him, caring for his wife as they waited for their first child. He couldn’t believe both him and his sister arrived at such a life-changing position in their existences…they still both seemed so young. Meklavar was only nineteen and he was in his twenties. He knew people who’d started families at even younger ages than that, but it was still so hard to get his head around.  
Something else he’d never been able to help but notice was just how Block made an effort to look after Meklavar, much like he himself always had. He could easily imagine Block taking her home after a night out at the pub. His little sister was in good hands, and so was their baby.  
Elenthiel went with Meklavar to her room for a private chat later on while Block caught up with his in-laws.  
After Afen was born, Block and Meklavar went to stay with her parents for a short while. Aeryn came over to visit with his wife.  
“So this is the little guy I felt kicking in your belly,” he remarked as Meklavar let him hold her new baby, “Man, he’s so cute!” Then he laughed. “I still can’t believe you actually had to go on a quest before you were about to give birth to him! Is that bad timing or what?” She and Block had told their relatives the whole story about how they defeated the imp.  
Meklavar laughed as well. “You know me, Aeryn. I never let a little thing like that get in my way!”  
It wasn’t long before his nephew had grown into a small boy. Block and Meklavar were able to take Afen on Block’s staff now he could sit up without assistance and they visited Meklavar’s family whenever they could.  
As soon as they arrived at the house where Aeryn still lived with his wife and parents (they were too poor to afford a place of their own yet) he would open the door, bend down and open his arms wide. Afen would run into them and get a big bear hug, which usually turned into a friendly wrestle. Meklavar would often join in and was pretty good at it.  
“I see you haven’t changed, little sis,” Aeryn would say after they’d finished play-fighting.  
“Actually, I think I’m getting kinda rusty. All this running after Afen has given me less time for training my muscles. Isn’t that right, little guy?” Afen sat on her lap. “You’re a real monkey sometimes, trying to help Block and me with the washing and gardening, huh?”  
“Oh, I bet you’re REAL helpful…” teased Aeryndal, ruffling his nephew’s hair, which made him giggle.  
“I’m sure glad I’m no longer a stay-at-home Mom. Block’s much better at being a homemaker than I was and he never gets cross with our little man. It’s been really working out, me working as a woodcutter while he stays home. You like having your Dad around, don’t you, Afen?”  
The boy nodded.  
“Man, I can’t believe how much you’re getting like your Dad!” continued Meklavar, “You’re a real sweetie, you know that? Just like Block.”  
Block was watching from nearby and smiling tenderly.  
“And I’m sure you get this from your Dad as well…” Meklavar teased, giving her son’s chubby belly a friendly pat, which made him giggle. They then started play-fighting again for a short while.  
Aeryn’s wife had given birth to a baby of her own some time ago and he invited his nephew to say hello to the infant, who was now crawling around. The pair of them played together and Afen let her hold his treasured wooden horse. He tried to teach her how to make “neigh!” noises, which she attempted to copy, but hadn’t quite made it to the talking stage yet!  
It wasn’t just Meklavar’s family he was forming relationships with either. They occasionally saw Block’s folks, who loved him every bit as much. Block’s mother liked to show him around her magic chamber, as long as his parents kept him from touching anything he wasn’t supposed to (i.e. half-finished experiments, jars of pesky wind sprites, potions that could turn your skin purple…with no offense to any Galra reading this). Sometimes she would even demonstrate spells for him, conjuring bouquets of flowers and mixing concoctions together. She wore a long green and gold dress with a hood and decorated edges, her long curly hair tied back in a bun, the typical appearance of a skilled sorceress.

  
Block’s father was a blacksmith who let Afen look around his workshop. He would stand back with his parents and watch him fashion a piece of iron into a horseshoe, clutching onto his own little horse toy. He was able to say hello to the horses his grandfather worked on and even got to ride on a small pony one lucky time. Block would sometimes help his father with tasks, like he used to when he lived at home.  
The other members of Block’s family also took a shine to the little boy, inviting him, Block and Meklavar on picnics in the nearby woods, where he’d get piggyback rides with Block’s cousins and paddle in the stream with his great aunts and uncles. Meanwhile, Block and Meklavar would lie down on a blanket under a shady tree and take a nap together, knowing their son was in safe hands…  
Pike, Jiro and Valayun also frequently visited their friends’ cottage. Afen would squeal with delight every time he saw “Uncle Pike” arriving. The rogue would lift him up high above his head.  
“Put me dow!” Afen was barely able to speak, he was giggling so much.  
“And what’s the magic word?” Pike would ask.  
“Pwease!”  
Pike would lower him into a cuddle. “I’m sure glad to see you again…” he’d say, “So, what do you think your old Uncle Pike could teach you this time? How to play nursery rhymes with your armpits? The best hiding spots to jump out and scare your Mom and Dad? I’m sure you’d love to go catch some bush tucker with me, huh?”  
“I don’t think his parents would appreciate any of that,” Valayun would say, though she was more amused than disapproving.  
“Don’t listen to her!” Pike would address the toddler, “Your Mom was every bit as wild at your age. I hear she used to defeat your Uncle Aeryn in wrestling matches, even though he’s decaphoebs older than her! I wonder if you could defeat your old Uncle Pike in a wrestling match…” He’d growl gently and start play-fighting with the laughing toddler, Valayun rolling her eyes.  
She struggled to make conversation herself with the little boy and mostly watched him play with her friends from a distance, rarely interacting with him, but Afen still rather liked her. It was probably because sometimes when he and Pike were messing around in the forest together without the others, they’d sometimes sit behind a bush and talk about stuff together – things that Afen never told anyone, even his parents. Though Afen couldn’t say much, Pike would do most of the talking and tell him all his deepest secrets.  
“Your Aunt Valayun’s a special woman,” he said one day, looking reminiscent, “You don’t meet many women like her in a lifetime…I know I’ve never met anyone like her before. I don’t think Theodshin has either…”  
“Who Fode-Shin?” asked Afen.  
Pike smiled at his little friend’s mispronunciation. “Theodshin is this elvish knight who’s…I guess you could say he’s very close to Valayun. He’s way much better looking than I am. Oh man, you gotta see his hair! It’s as long and silky as hers.”  
“Is he girl?” asked Afen, seemingly rather amused.  
“What? No, he’s not a girl!”  
Afen chuckled loudly, quite proud of the joke he’d just made.  
Pike smiled in response. “They’ve been hanging out together, probably sharing fighting techniques and swapping hair products…that sort of stuff. It didn’t used to bother me too much…well, actually it kind of did. Now he’s asked to be her boyfriend. Do you know what a boyfriend is, little guy?”  
“He’s her fwiend!” replied Afen enthusiastically.  
“Well, kind of, but not exactly…” How was he going to explain this to a two-year-old? “He’s sort of like a friend…but not just a friend…to Valayun, that is.” He was silent for a moment. “A boyfriend is…the guy you think you’re gonna marry.”  
“But you mawwy Va-yun!” said Afen, looking rather upset.  
Pike placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been through this before, little buddy. I can’t marry Valayun. She likes me, but as a friend…not a boyfriend. She doesn’t want to marry me.” Afen started to cry. “No, no, don’t start leaking!” Pike embraced him. “We should be happy for her. She’s found a guy whom she actually might want to marry. Isn’t that great? He treats her real good too. Just as good as your Dad treats your Mom.” He mopped Afen’s eyes, but then realised tears were forming in his own. He tried to wipe them away, but knew that Afen had spotted them already. “I know…I shouldn’t lie to myself. It still hurts real bad, even though I know I should be pleased for her and Theodshin, but what can I do? I just can’t compete with him! He’s gotta be the most attractive guy in more lands than your Mom’s the best axe-fighter in! I’m just a common thief…or at least I used to be, before I met Valayun…” His voice trailed off.  
He sat down with his back against the bush and put his arm around Afen. The pair of them was silent for a long while before they heard someone pacing through the forest and a voice calling, “Pike? Afen? Where are you? Block’s going to dish up supper soon!”  
Pike immediately knew who it was and took hold of both Afen’s shoulders. “Don’t you mention a word of what I just said to you!” he hissed.  
The infant nodded and they both crawled out of their hiding space, before following Valayun back to Block and Meklavar’s cottage. The friends ate a jovial meal together around the kitchen table and Pike and Afen all but forgot about the private conversation they’d just had.  
“So, what do you want to be when you grow up, little guy?” Jiro asked Afen at one point.  
“Dunno,” he responded through a mouthful of bread.  
“If you want to become a knight someday, I could teach you how to fight when you’re older – Paladin style.”  
“Hey, that sounds good, doesn’t it, Afen?” said Meklavar, “You always like playing the brave warrior in our games together, don’t you?”  
Afen nodded.  
“When you’re a little older, I’m going to teach you sorcery,” said Block, “I’ve already started teaching your Mom. She’s getting better than me!”  
Meklavar grinned proudly and Block gave her a kiss, right on the lips. Afen giggled. He liked seeing his parents kiss almost as much as he liked getting kisses from them.  
Meklavar then leaned over and planted a kiss right on his cheek, which made him giggle even more. She gave him several more, one after the other, and he nearly fell off his chair with laughter.  
It would have been hard to imagine back then that their delightful little boy, plump and healthy, always finding ways to have fun and make mischief, would one day be sick, bedridden, half-starved and barely able to make any sound that wasn’t crying. However, it would have been even more difficult to imagine a world without him…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

It took hours before Alfor’s staff arrived at the prison where Terrig was being kept, but the lunch Block had served was enough to keep the travellers going. None of the group (apart from Alfor) had ever ventured into this particular land. As they’d flown over the country, they’d seen worryingly few proper cottages and rather a lot of hovels and tents. It was clear that it was a very poor area with few sellable resources. There were a lot of farms, and it was reasonable to assume many of them were for self-subsistence.

At one point, they flew over an ogre village, where some brute threw a club at them for seemingly no reason. Luckily, Alfor dodged just in time and no-one was hurt.

The gaol wasn’t far from the settlement, but they wouldn’t have noticed it was there if not for Alfor. Instead of being a building like the dwarf penitentiary, it was built underground, with a closely guarded entrance located on a hill. Alfor asked one of the guards (who was another friend of his and appeared to be a half-orc) to escort them inside and he cranked open the trap door, gesturing for them to climb in. After going quite a way down an old metal ladder, the team arrived in a cave with a long corridor in front of them. There was no natural light besides that which was coming through the opening, and once that was shut the place would have been completely dark were not for the torch the burly guard was holding, as well as the ones on the walls.

He led them through the passageway until eventually he came to a large door. Behind it were several other doors, leading to other parts of the gaol.

“Who are you intending to visit?” he asked Alfor. His voice was deep but not gruff.

“I heard the ogre Terrig was incarcerated here some decaphoebs ago. I need to ask him some questions about the people who had him imprisoned here.”

The guard turned to face Alfor. “Terrig, huh? The master thief? You might be out of luck. If I remember correctly, he passed on a couple decaphoebs back. He wasn’t here long, only a movement or two. Caught pneumonia or something.”

The team’s faces fell. Alfor now recalled seeing a field near the hill where the gaol was located in the vision created by the amulet, but since the dungeon’s entrance was clearly visible, hadn’t realised the grass he was seeing was literally where Terrig was – or rather last had been. The guards must have cremated him just outside the prison, unable to give him a proper burial.

“What?!” cried Pike, “You mean we’ve run out of suspects?”

“I’m really sorry, Pike.” Alfor looked solemn.

Though he remained calm, inwardly his spirit was rending in half. _No! This couldn’t be happening! Not again!_ The déjà vu was practically stabbing him, mocking him, threatening to reduce him to a tearful mess…

“We can’t just give up!” Pike looked determined. “There’s got to be someone who’ll know how to cure Afen. Are there any sorcerers here? Someone who knows how to make illnesses?”

The half-orc guard looked a little panicked, unsure of what Pike was talking about. “I think there might be a sorcerer here…”

“You gotta take us to him! He might be our last hope…” A tear spurted from a corner of Pike’s eye. He wiped it away, trying not to show any emotion. Valayun noticed all the same and put her arm around him.

“Pike, we’ve got to accept that we might not find out who made Afen sick…” she said gently. She then gave him a hug, slowly rocking her old friend and rubbing his back. The situation reminded her all too much of an experience she’d been through many years ago and though her father didn’t show it, she knew the same pain was returning to him as well. What she didn’t realise, however, was how chillingly accurate the mirroring of events were…

“Maybe it was the witch’s daughter!” he continued to rant, “I bet she wasn’t telling the truth about Block. She probably hates his guts.” Tears were leaking out of both his eyes now.

“I’m really sorry, Pike.” Valayun was starting to cry herself. “I don’t want to lose Afen either. Though I might not be very good at talking to him, I know he means the world to our friends Block and Meklavar. It will break my heart if he is taken from them.”

Jiro came over and joined in the cuddle. “He’s special to me as well. Though he may be young, he’s got many experiences ahead of him. I promised that I’d teach him how to fight like a Paladin when he’s older, just like my brother’s mentor taught me. Losing Shiro was difficult enough. I know first-hand what Block and Meklavar must be going through at this time.”

Little did the others know, Shiro wasn’t the only person he’d lost in his life. At this very moment in time, an old wound was re-opening, triggered by the knowledge of his friends’ suffering. It was a wound shaped like a handsome young man with brown skin and hair; a fellow soldier in the war many years ago, talented at fighting and a skilled chef. To those around them, he and Merzak had been merely friends, but Jiro knew in his heart they were a little more than that. That same heart of his was pierced yet again every time he thought of the many things they had done together; the battles they’d won, the games they’d played when they weren’t engaged in combat, the in-jokes they’d had…having him around had made the war bearable.

It was only to be expected that a conflict was bound to result in some fatalities, but that obvious knowledge could never take away the sting of the memory of that one fateful day when he returned back to his camp and found Merzak wasn’t there. He remembered falling to his knees in shock after his comrades revealed what had happened to him. He had been slain in battle.

His other friends had tried to comfort him. He died a hero’s death, they said. He should be proud of him.

Perhaps so, but that never lessened the pain.

Jiro was a very calm sort of fellow, who rarely showed extreme emotions, but after hearing the news, he had cried himself to sleep every night for all too long. He had done the same after discovering that his beloved brother Shiro had been killed a couple of years later. His life was one all too filled with losses…

In the present, the half-orc guard was looking at the huddle in confusion. “Who’s this Afen?” he whispered to Alfor, not wanting to be rude.

“Afendorn is the son of Block and Meklavar, who had Terrig imprisoned here,” the sorcerer explained, “He is two decaphoebs old and suffering from a seemingly incurable illness. We suspect it is the work of dark sorcery and have been questioning various people they defeated on past quests in the hope of finding out how to cure him.”

“Oh. Right.” The guard lost eye contact with his friend. He wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

The group hug beside them ended. Valayun gave Pike a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“I think we ought to head home now. Afen might not be around for much longer and I want to be there for Block and Meklavar.”

_Block and Meklavar_. The half-orc mouthed those names several times. He could have sworn they sounded familiar, but he was trying to remember what they looked like. Had they brought in a prisoner only once or had it been a few times? He tried to visualise a young couple bringing in Terrig, but somehow the image didn’t fit. What was not quite right…?

Suddenly, a vivid picture sprang into his mind. It was of a fairly tall and solidly built sorcerer, clad in green, gold and yellow robes, with a dwarf boy in clunky armour carrying an axe beside him. Or at least, he’d assumed they were a boy. Didn’t most dwarf boys have facial hair at unusually young ages though? Unless they shaved or took potions, like he knew the girls did…

In his mental image, the pair had Terrig in chains and were handing him over, talking about the quest they’d just completed to defeat him. That wasn’t the only time he’d met them either. If his mind served him correctly, there had been at least two other instances where they’d brought in criminals to be detained. He was surprised that the memories were coming back so clearly now, especially since he’d met so many people who’d turned in prisoners during his time working as a guard, but they had been a pretty dynamic pair, and come to think of it, now it honestly didn’t surprise him that they were a couple. He remembered Meklavar proudly talking about their victories and Block pessimistically dwelling on all the dangers they’d faced. They were very memorable characters, the both of them! And there was something else he couldn’t help recalling about them…

“Block and Meklavar?” he said aloud, “I remember them.”

Jiro, Valayun and Pike turned to face him.

“Do you know them?” asked Jiro.

“Not very well…I think I only met them a couple times. They brought Terrig here and some other criminals. They were the nicest people. I feel real bad for them, having their kid get sick. Man, they were pretty sick themselves when they brought Terrig here, but they wouldn’t even let the flu stop them from capturing a criminal!” He chuckled. “They really made me laugh as well. I can see why you’re friends with them.”

“Hang on a minute…” Valayun looked thoughtful, “Did Meklavar mention something about her and Block having the flu before?”

“I think so…” answered Jiro, trying to figure out what she was getting at, “Do you think that could be a lead?”

The archer turned to the guard. “Didn’t you say that Terrig died of pneumonia?”

“Yeah, probably,” he replied, “It wouldn’t surprise me if he got it after catching flu off the couple. Lots of folks get real sick and die in this prison during the winter. I always catch the flu myself each year from working around them…at least I can get my hands on some good medicine though.”

Jiro processed this new information. “If that’s true, then Block and Meklavar unintentionally were the direct cause behind his death.”

Alfor was chilled by this revelation, but his brain was already forming a theory. “Does Terrig have a next-of-kin?”

“I’m not sure,” responded the half-orc, “I might have to ask some of the in-mates.”

“If this ogre guy has a relative who dabbles in sorcery,” pondered Pike aloud, “Then they’d have a pretty darn good motivation to get revenge on Block and Meklavar.” His face lit up as he realised that maybe there was still a glimmer of hope after all.

“Exactly!” cried Valayun, “And if we can find out who they are, there’s a chance we might be able to save Afen!”

…

The little boy was still alive, but barely. His parents continued to tend to him, wanting to give him food but knowing it would make no difference. He threw up yet again, this time vomiting a nasty green liquid that left the pair very concerned. There was literally no food left in his belly and he was completely without any strength.

Block was getting very tired now from the all-nighter but refused to take a nap. Afen hadn’t spoken in a while. He had his eyes closed, though he wasn’t asleep. He was still breathing though and that was all that mattered.

Block had Meklavar’s hand in his own and they were whispering to each other about all the memories they had of their son. They remembered the first time that he’d kicked in Meklavar’s belly and the difficult situation in which she’d given birth to him in. Block had wondered why of all the times she could have gone into labour, it happened to be while she was on an urgent quest. The pair of them could laugh about the irony now though!

They thought back to when they saw him for the first time; their beautiful little boy who looked so much like the pair of them, with Block’s dark skin and hair and Meklavar’s heart-shaped face and burgundy markings. He’d slept in their bedroom every night for nearly two years and they’d come to know his sleeping habits as well as each other’s. Sometimes he even snored, just like the pair of them. Most nights they were woken up by him crying and sometimes they barely got a wink of sleep, causing them to be grumpy and irritable the next morning. They’d had several arguments during this period, which was highly unusual for them, since Block wasn’t someone you could pick a fight with easily. They’d managed to make up fairly quickly each time, however, and never went to bed without a sincere kiss.

They’d played with him every day, constantly learning more about this new life that had been placed in their hands, entertaining him with a rattle and giving him lots of kisses and cuddles. They’d been there when he sat up for the first time (Meklavar had cheered and said, “Good boy, Afen!”) and when he’d began crawling (they’d got so excited to see him progressing so fast).

He started babbling, trying to have conversations with the pair of them. Block and Meklavar played along, pretending to understand him. His parents would often sit him on either of their laps and play Peekaboo, which made him laugh. Block would make him an egg and soldiers for breakfast some mornings and he could eat the strips of bread by himself, dunking them in the yoke and getting it all over himself, before one of them had to clean him up.

Before long, he was scooting around on all fours and eventually walking. The nonsensical words he made up turned into coherent words and phrases. He could address Block and Meklavar as “Dada” and “Mama”. He began toddling all around their house, climbing onto the chairs, playing with his horse and “helping” them with chores.

He loved play-fighting with his parents, especially Meklavar. She would roleplay as a scary ogre and pretend to eat him, blowing raspberries on his tummy, just like Aeryndal used to when they played as children. Sometimes he would wrestle with the pair of them just after they’d clambered into bed and it would escalate into a pillow fight, ending in the three falling on their backs and laughing.

One memorable game they’d played together in the nearby forest was where Meklavar (clad in her full armour) pretended to be a brave knight with Afen as her squire. They went on a quest to rescue a “beautiful princess” (played by Block) who was put under an evil spell to make her sleep for a hundred years. Block was surprisingly good at playing the princess, completely over-acting as he pretended the spell had been cast on him by an evil fairy.

Meklavar really turned their game into an adventure. When they came across a muddy puddle, she pretended it was a filthy swamp filled with bog monsters trying to get them, which they slayed with their “swords” (which were really sticks – Meklavar was sensible enough not to use any real weapons when they were playing). When they had to cross a trickling stream, she made it out that it was in fact a large river with a strong current and a waterfall at the other end.

She planted one boot in the water and cried, “Oh no! I’ve fallen in! You’ll have to rescue me!”

Afen reached over and pulled her arm with all his might, “freeing” her.

Now back on the bank, she said, “If we bend down real low, we might be able to jump high enough to get over the river. On the count of three…” She and Afen squatted down low. “…one, two, THREE!” The pair leapt easily over the little brook. “Great job, squire! Now let’s get out of here before the crocodiles get us.”

She and Afen stomped on through the forest, their shoes slushing in the mess of fallen leaves, soon reaching a clearing in the woods. In the middle of it was a large tree stump and on top of it lay Block, pretending to be fast asleep, drooling a little bit for realism.

“We have found the princess!” she cried. They walked over to him and Meklavar gave him a little nudge. “Block, you can wake up now,” she whispered.

“Kissy!” said Afen.

“You’re right, little buddy,” said Meklavar after a short contemplation, “Maybe the spell can be undone by the kiss of true love.”

She leaned over and planted a kiss on her husband’s lips. She then pulled away and slowly he sat up, rubbing his eyes, before he pretended to notice Meklavar for the first time.

“Oh, thank heavens!” He fluttered his eyelashes and did a silly falsetto voice. “Are you the brave knight who undid that evil fairy’s spell?”

“I sure am!” She put a hand on Afen’s shoulders. “And my squire was a great help too. He rescued me from a crocodile-infested river!”

Afen then tugged on one of her gloves, clearly unhappy about something.

“What’s wrong, little guy?” Meklavar asked, crouching down to his level. He whispered something in her ear. “I guess I could do that…” she responded.

She left his side and walked over to Block. “Now that I have rescued you, O beautiful princess…” She took his hand and got down on one knee. “…I would like to ask for your hand in marriage!”

“Oh!” Block fluttered his eyelashes even more, in fake shock. “Of course I’ll marry you, brave knight!”

Meklavar stood up again. “We’ll have a grand wedding ceremony in your castle and eventually rule the land as King and Queen.”

She dipped him down and they continued to flirt with each other, until eventually sharing another kiss.

“Yay, kissy!” Afen got all excited and ran around laughing.

Block and Meklavar couldn’t help but be reminded of the day they’d become engaged – and married – more than three years ago.

Now that Afen was a small boy (turning two in the coming year) the pair had begun talking about another potential advancement in their relationship – having another baby. Block knew this would be difficult for Meklavar to go through again, especially after she’d suffered so much when she was expecting Afen, but they eventually both concluded they equally wanted a second child. At first, this was a topic only discussed in private conversations, but after a while they felt they needed to discuss the matter further with their son.

One cold autumn evening when Meklavar was taking a nice warm bath with the boy, she found a way of bringing up the subject with him.

The metal bath was placed in the kitchen in front of the roaring fire, the armchair and rocking chair moved out of the way to make room for it. Block, who had taken off his cloak and rolled up his sleeves, had handed her some soap and she was washing the toddler’s hair with it.

Once she was done, she whispered to him, “Close your eyes now.”

Afen did just that and Block gently poured a bucket of water over his head. Unfortunately, however, Afen ended up getting startled and opening his eyes. He then squealed in fright and Block stopped the flow. He began to cry and Meklavar gave him a hug.

“I did warn you, little guy. It’s no fun getting soap in your eyes, is it?” She let go of him. “I’ll show you what you need to do. Block, can you give me the soap back?” Her husband handed it to her and she started lathering it into her own scalp. She closed her eyes and said, “Block, can you rinse my hair?” She tilted her head back to just the right degree and Block slowly poured it onto her tresses. She continued to massage her hair and scalp, trying to get all the soap out of it. Eventually, Block was finished and she brought her head forward. Her hair was now soaking wet and clung to her skull and shoulders. She smiled at Block and he gave her a kiss on the top of her head, which made her laugh.

Over the past few years she’d grown from being awkward whenever he bathed her, to completely indifferent. Block was happy to see she was so comfortable in front of him and their toddler son.

“See? It’s pretty easy, little guy. Hey! What if you put your head forward? Then it won’t matter if you open your eyes. Wanna give it a go, huh?”

Afen smiled and his mother held him forwards. Block was able to rinse his head and before long he was as clean as Meklavar.

“Good job, Afen!” she praised, “Before long, you’ll be able to wash your own hair. Then if you had a little brother or sister, you could teach them how to wash their hair.”

She looked closely at her son’s face, wondering how he would react to the prospect of having a younger sibling. He didn’t seem to know what to make of this suggestion.

“Would you like that? A little brother or sister?”

She left him a few moments to reply, but he said nothing.

“Your Mom and I are thinking of having another baby,” said Block.

“If you had a little brother or sister, you could have lots of fun playing with them,” continued Meklavar, “But you’d have to be on your best behaviour. Little brothers and sisters are always copying their big brothers!” She closed her eyes and smirked, crossing her arms. “I should know – I had a big brother.” She was already beginning to feel sorry for Afen, knowing what a right terror she’d been as a little girl!

Afen looked at her, still unsure of what to say. “Ba…by?” he said.

“You were a baby once, weren’t you, little guy? But you’re a big boy now and we’ve been thinking it would be nice to have another baby who’d grow up and become a big boy or girl like you. Of course, you’d be bigger than them until you become adults. One day you’re going to be big and strong, aren’t you, Afen?”

She flexed one of her arms and grinned. Afen mirrored her, right down to the grin.

“Looking good, Meklavar,” she went on, gazing proudly at her biceps. Then she put down her arm and sighed. “Guess I won’t be working out again for a while…”

She looked at Block and smiled wistfully. Her husband got the hint and knew it was time to start preparing for this coming change. They set up Afen his own bedroom so he would no longer need to sleep in the cradle near their bed.

For the next few nights afterward, they were intimate, wrapped up in their pyjamas with several blankets on their bed for warmth. Each time after they’d had sex, they settled down and quietly talked about their upcoming responsibility, much like they had when they’d been trying to get pregnant with Afen. By this time, they were rather sleepy but in a good mood – something that would last come the morning, when the well-rested pair would have to spend another day looking after Afen and getting on with their usual tasks.

Meklavar stopped working as a woodcutter and Block became the main breadwinner, while she stayed at home with their son. One day, a little over two months since she’d had the discussion with Afen, she woke up feeling really lousy. She was sick in the chamber pot in their room and didn’t want any breakfast. Block got up, washed and dressed Afen on his own. The little boy was rather upset to know his mother was unwell. When she was sat at the table, looking rather green, he gave her a cuddle to cheer her up.

After Block had persuaded Meklavar to nibble on a gingerbread man, she remarked, “So, I guess this is it, huh.”

Her husband knew what she was talking about and cast a sorcery circle. After scrutinising it for a minute, he nodded to his wife. Meklavar nodded in response, smiling weakly.

“Afen, we’ve got some news to tell you…” Block addressed his son, who was sat between the couple, “Your Mom is with child. That means you’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

Afen laughed gleefully. He then said, “Where the baby?”

“Oh! The baby’s inside your Mom’s belly.”

Meklavar began stroking her tummy. “It’s gonna grow bigger and bigger until it’s ready to pop out – just like you did when you were a baby.”

They’d told him the story of where (which included how) he was born all too many times…

Afen then started running around the room, nattering to himself about the news. Block and Meklavar exchanged grins.

His second birthday came around a couple of days later and though they sadly didn’t have any visitors (their friends were engaged on an important quest) they had a party by themselves, with lots of delicious treats cooked by Block. Meklavar couldn’t eat a lot but was grateful to him for catering.

Over the next couple of weeks, Afen got more and more excited, constantly asking his parents about the coming baby. Meklavar, however, felt sick every morning and wasn’t really herself until the afternoon. Sometimes Block told her she could stay in their room until she was feeling better and he would manage Afen on his own. He tried to answer all his little son’s questions and discourage him from disturbing his Mom before lunchtime, when Meklavar was usually not as queasy.

Things were going well and the couple began to anticipate the arrival of their new child. However, one morning Meklavar woke up and realised something wasn’t quite right.

“Block?” she said anxiously, nudging him awake, “I need you to check something.”

Block sat up bolt upright, chilled by her tone of voice. His wife lifted up her skirt and he gasped in horror.

“You’re bleeding!” he cried.

“I’m guessing that’s not supposed to happen during pregnancy…”

“That’s not good…that’s really not good…” Block cast a magic circle, while his wife pulled down her skirt. He studied it for a minute and then froze. He made the circle vanish and then just sat there, tears forming in his eyes. “You…you lost the baby.” He hung his head, tears spilling out of his closed eyes.

Meklavar looked down at her abdomen and clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. Already, she’d started building up affection for her unborn child that had motivated her to keep going despite her sickness, just like when she was expecting Afen, but now that baby was…gone. Meklavar hadn’t experienced a lot of death in her life, or at least not with people she was close to. She remembered a family in her apartment building had lost two of their children, but she was pretty young at the time and didn’t know either of them well. The closest she’d ever come to losing a family member was when her brother had gone to fight in the war. She’d known for years that there was the possibility he’d never come home, but deep in her heart she’d held onto faith that he would make it out alive. That same faith had kept her going until his glorious return.

Despite only having known for three weeks she was pregnant, Meklavar began to feel like this was the first time she’d lost someone who really mattered to her…or rather, she’d never had the chance to get to know them. She shed a few tears of her own and cuddled with Block. She got rather worked up, wishing they could have saved their baby. He assured her there probably wasn’t any way he could have prevented her from having a miscarriage, even with his skills in sorcery. There were some things even a healer couldn’t prevent happening.

The most difficult part was explaining what had happened to their son when they came down for breakfast.

“Afen?” said Block, “We’ve got some bad news. Your Mom’s not going to be having a baby.”

Afen stopped eating his egg and soldiers. His bottom lip quivered. “No baby?”

Block put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, you see, er…your Mom lost the baby.” He panicked a little when he suddenly realised how easily mistranslated that description could be by a two-year-old’s brain and quickly thought of another way to describe it. “What I mean is…it died. The baby’s dead.”

The small boy began to cry and Block gave him a hug, tears rolling down his cheeks as well. Meklavar was also sat at the table and came over to them. Afen got up and gave her a hug, watering her green day dress. She was so short that he was already able to rest his head on her tummy. She stroked his head, reassuring him that maybe in the future she’d be expecting another baby.

The family grieved for a few weeks but soon Block and Meklavar wanted to try and have a child once more. Block began to panic, worrying that she’d have another miscarriage and that perhaps she’d lose all her potential future pregnancies, but Meklavar encouraged him not to let his fears get in the way. He knew she was right and the pair was intimate many more times, trying to have an optimistic attitude.

This time, it took a while for Meklavar to get pregnant again. They weren’t quite sure why this was, but she reckoned it was possible she’d had another miscarriage before they’d found out she was expecting. It was now the spring and Meklavar’s garden was in bloom. One morning as she woke up to tend to it, she realised she was feeling sick again and asked Block to check if she was having another baby.

After confirming the latter, the couple told Afen about the news. He got rather excited about it, but they warned him it was possible Meklavar could miscarry again.

The frequent nausea and hormonal changes made her get increasingly more irritable, occasionally snapping at her husband and child. One morning, as she and Block were getting ready, she got frustrated with brushing out the tangles in her chest-length tresses, finally casting her comb to the floor.

“I’m sick of this quiznacking hair!”

She picked up her axe, which was sitting beside her and Block’s double bed, and was about to hack it off, when her husband caught sight of what she was doing and had a terrible fright.

“No, no, NO! Don’t do that!” he cried, rushing to stop her before she made a rash decision. He took the axe off her.

“BLOCK!” she shouted angrily.

“I can’t let you do that! Your hair’s getting so long and beautiful and I’d kind of miss running my hands through it and…”

“I can cut my damn hair if I want!” Meklavar was practically foaming at the mouth, her eyes filled with passionate rage. She was still wearing her revealing summer nightie and her locks were wild and straggly. She almost looked more like the witch of Venric than the noble warrior Meklavar.

“OK, OK… Just promise me you’ll go to the barber if you have your hair cut again.”

Meklavar softened a little and nodded, folding her arms. “Sure as hell I will. My hair’s getting too long for me to manage anymore.” Perhaps that wasn’t the case when she was twelve, but things had changed a lot since then.

A few days later, another regrettable incident happened when Afen left his toy horse on one of the stairs and Meklavar, distracted by her queasiness, accidentally slipped on it. She went flying and landed in a heap on the floor. Block gasped loudly and rushed to her aid, abandoning the cauldron of soup made from vegetables in her garden. (He frequently used her produce to make pickles and jams as well.)

He helped her up and once he’d diagnosed that she’d received no injuries worse than several bruises, she picked up the horse and marched over to her son, who was sat on the floor playing with an old blanket.

“AFENDORN! What the QUIZNACK was this doing on the stairs?!” She threw the toy and it skidded across the floor, hitting a wall. “What have I told you about leaving your toys around? I could have broken something!”

The little boy looked completely shocked to see her so angry. “Sowwy…” he whimpered.

“You bet you’re gonna be sorry. If I catch you leaving that horse around again, it’s going on the fire!”

Afen looked as though he was about to cry. Block was now horrified for a completely different reason. He walked over to his wife and reached for her shoulder.

“Babe? Are you OK?”

She swivelled around, looking just as witch-like as she had on the day of her almost-haircut. “Of course I’m not OK! I’ve been quiznacking sick all morning. What do you expect?!”

Block went over and gave her a cuddle. Despite her current prickliness, he knew there was never a time she wasn’t in the mood for a hug. She buried her face in his chest and began to sob.

“I’m becoming a monster…” she said tearfully, peeling her face off her husband’s tunic.

“No you’re not…” reassured Block, rocking her gently, “You’re not really yourself at the moment.”

Meklavar looked upward. “Sorry if I’ve been a grouch these past couple days. Morning sickness sucks.”

“I know, babe. Feeling sick is the worst.” (There had been all too many times when Block had to say to himself, “Man, I shouldn’t have eaten a hog roast and two helpings of pears in custard before I rode my staff…”) They cuddled for a short while longer before Meklavar turned round and apologised to her son for overreacting.

Not long after this incident, she had another miscarriage and the family grieved once more. The couple were hoping to try yet again to have a baby when something else came in the way. One beautiful summer’s afternoon, they’d returned home from church and had a roast dinner together, before going out for a nice walk. Meklavar was wearing her “Sunday Best” – the dress she’d got married in, which was still fairly pristine. She was careful not to get it dirty or even wet, which was a possibility now she was paddling in the trickling stream. She invited her son to join her, but for some reason he didn’t want to and was getting very clingy with his father.

Block and Meklavar didn’t realise that this was a sign of illness until they returned home and Afen began to complain he had a headache. They fed him some chicken soup for dinner, but shortly afterward he got dizzy and fainted clean in front of them. He woke up in his mother’s arms with his father stroking his head, feeling rather disorientated. Block concocted some medicine for him and they put him to bed.

They thought little of it as they went to sleep that night. Headaches were rarely a cause for serious concern and Block’s sorcery skills would surely be able to cure him of whatever ailment he’d caught. It was only the next morning that they realised his sickness was more serious than they’d expected. Afen was very weak and couldn’t get out of bed. He threw up the chicken soup he’d had for dinner the night before and started coughing incessantly. The couple decided not to give him anything to eat the rest of the day but Block mixed a ginger drink for him.

The next day, they gave Afen some plain bread for his breakfast, but he was unable to keep it down. They didn’t feed him for the rest of that day either and he threw up stomach acid before bedtime, having felt ill for hours beforehand. The day after that, he began to stop coughing and instead became feverish. It was then Block and Meklavar started to become concerned. None of the medicine they’d given him – including the ginger remedy – was having any effect whatsoever.

Nothing like this had ever happened to Block before. He’d worked as a healer for so many years, alternating between being the family breadwinner with his wife, yet he’d never come across anyone with an illness that was so…resilient. No matter what he gave Afen, it had no effect. Looking back, maybe he should have been more suspicious that it didn’t come from a natural source…

Every time they gave him anything to eat, just to keep up his strength, he brought it up. He was getting progressively worse by the day and eventually the couple came to accept that…perhaps he wouldn’t get better.

One night, Afen had just fallen into a deep slumber. Block was on night duty but Meklavar couldn’t sleep so she was watching him with her husband. The pair of them held hands, uniting in their solemnity.

“He’s so young,” whispered Block, “Much too young to be taken from us. Man, we were so blessed by the gods by having him in the first place. We didn’t know back then he was our miracle baby.”

There was so much they hadn’t known or appreciated when they first became parents. Having Afen had changed their lives in many ways they hadn’t even expected.

The pair began to get tearful. Though they made no further exchanges, it was obvious what they were both thinking – if they were to lose Afen, would they even be able to have another baby some when in the future? They had not known until recently just how narrowly they’d avoided becoming a childless couple. If things really did turn out as bleakly as they were anticipating, there was a high chance this unthinkable scenario could become a reality…


	6. Chapter 6

 

Chapter Six

The half-orc guard had escorted Pike, Valayun, Jiro and Alfor into the men’s section of the prison. Unlike the previous gaol, it did not have separate cells, but rather all the in-mates were in one large cave, chained to the walls, hands and feet, albeit with enough chain lengths to let them move around. The place was exceedingly dark and cold, even in the summer, with the only light provided by torches and candles. It wasn’t hard to guess why Terrig had developed a serious illness from a simple flu during his time there.

There was straw on the cobbled ground and many prisoners had blankets around them. Much like with the dwarf penitentiary, their eyes were drawn to their new visitors, especially Valayun. Before long, the guard stopped and began asking one of the criminals if they knew if Terrig had any family. While he was doing this, a wiry old man with a white overgrown beard and hair was looking at Valayun with a creepy expression. She had her back turned to him and while neither she nor the others were looking, he reached right under her tunic and touched her buttocks.

The elf maiden squeaked in shock and spun right around. She whipped an arrow out of her quiver and before the prisoner knew it she was pointing a loaded bow at him. “Who are you?” she said angrily, “What makes you think you have the right to touch me without my permission?”

The old man chuckled and made an obscene comment about wanting to fondle her breasts and private areas, seemingly unfazed by the presence of Jiro, Alfor and Pike, who had all turned round to see what on Altea was going on. The three looked completely stunned. The guard heard what was happening and abruptly shouted, “Shut up, Wynfez!”

He started moving and beckoned for the others to follow him (the prisoner he’d just interviewed didn’t have any idea if Terrig had family). Valayun lowered her bow and arrow, still keeping an eye on the man who’d inappropriately touched her. He blew her a kiss and winked, making her feel sick. She turned away and refused to look back.

“I’m real sorry about that,” explained the guard once they were a safe distance away from him, “I forgot he was imprisoned for rape. It’s not very often we have female visitors in here.”

Valayun clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified that a man like that could have got so close to her. Alfor reached to put an arm around her shoulders but found Pike had got there first, looking immensely protective of his friend. Though he knew that Valayun and Pike were fairly close, he’d never quite realised before just how close they were. When Valayun spoke about him, it seemed their friendship was just the same as her relationships with her other team-members. However, he began to question if Pike thought the same…

The guard went on to find another one of Terrig’s acquaintances, who this time had more information. Apparently, the ogre had a mother who lived somewhere in the land. Once he’d discovered this, he escorted the group out of the room. In the corridor, they discussed what to do.

“I think we pretty much have our work cut out for us now…” said Pike, looking satisfied.

“I wouldn’t count your chickens yet, Pike,” warned Valayun, “We don’t know if this woman really is guilty – or even if she’s still alive!”

Alfor pulled out his talisman. “The amulet will help us find her current dwelling.” If it so happened to be that she was indeed dead, then at least it would direct them to her final resting place. He closed his eyes and let it show him where the ogress lived. When he opened his eyes, his first remark was, “She still has a home, so it’s likely she isn’t dead.”

“Though Valayun is right that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” said Jiro, “I agree with Pike that it’s reasonable to assume this woman is guilty of the crime. We should be very careful while interrogating her. Unlike Bandonmor and the witch of Venric’s daughter, we have no idea what she’s capable of.” Block and Meklavar had made certain to summarise the typical tricks and abilities of every suspect they’d added to the list.

“If she was able to create a disease using sorcery, it’s likely she’s very dangerous,” Alfor continued, “We will need to be on guard at all times.”

After thanking the guard for his help, the group travelled to where Alfor’s amulet had directed. The mother’s house was not in the ogre settlement they’d flown past earlier, but rather a few dozen miles from where the gaol was situated. It was a hovel with a thatched roof, not unlike that belonging to the witch of Venric and her daughter, positioned beside a hill. The team went up to the residence and Jiro knocked on the door. He had his sword drawn out and his comrades all had their weapons at the ready.

They waited for a minute, but there was no answer. Jiro knocked again, his friends still cautious, but there was yet again no response. They relaxed a little, concluding there was no-one in.

“What do we do now?” asked Pike, “Wait until she comes back from her potion shopping or whatever?”

“I guess we will have to wait,” answered Jiro. However, his eye was on another little hovel a short walk away. “In the meantime, we could ask her neighbours some questions…”

He walked over to the house, his friends behind him, and gently knocked on the door. He waited a little while and this time there was an answer. They were surprised when who should answer but a dwarf woman, even shorter than Meklavar, but considerably older. She was probably in her fifties or sixties, but already had grey hair with streaks of white. It was very messy and her clothes were ragged and dirty, reflecting the poverty of the land.

“What do you want?” she answered gruffly.

“My name is Jiro, twin brother of Takashi Shirogane. I am a Paladin on a quest to find a cure for a devastating illness that has come upon my friend Afendorn, most likely the work of sorcery.”

“Don’t expect me to know how to ‘elp ‘im!” Her accent wasn’t all that different from Bandonmor’s.  “I wouldn’t know a darn thing about sorcery. That’s for them rich folks. You lot aren’t from round ‘ere, I can tell.” Even the roguish Pike was much better dressed than most of the people they’d seen in the land. “There aren’t that many of them sorcerers in this country!”

“Do you know if your neighbour practices sorcery? We suspect she might be behind Afen’s illness.”

The dwarf woman walked past the group, her arms crossed, and looked at the hovel a short walk away. “You mean ‘er there?” She gestured in the house’s direction.

“That’s correct.”

She folded her arms again. “I don’t ‘ave a clue! She mostly keeps to ‘erself. What would she want with this Afen? I ‘aven’t ‘eard ‘er mention ‘im before. ‘oo is ‘e?”

“He’s the young son of our friends Block and Meklavar,” explained Valayun, “Block is a sorcerer and Meklavar is a dwarf. They visited this land some decaphoebs ago and captured Terrig, the master thief. He was your neighbour’s son.”

The older woman looked at her and froze, her eyes wide. “Well I never…” She turned back to the hovel.

“She is the only person we know of who has a solid motive to kill Afen,” explained Alfor, “Her son died after catching the flu from Block and Meklavar which turned into a serious illness while he was in prison. Were you aware of this?”

“No. She won’t talk about ‘im. Bet it ‘urts too much. ‘er ‘usband left ‘er when ‘e was a baby. ‘e was ‘er only child, I’ll bet.” She turned to face the group again. “’ow far did you travel to get ‘ere? Some of you folk are Elvish. There aren’t many of them elves round ‘ere.”

“We used my father’s staff, but the journey still took a few vargas,” replied Valayun, “The land we come from is a long way from here. Block and Meklavar settled down there after getting married.”

“’ow do you suppose Neekerba got their little boy sick? I don’t doubt you’re right thinkin’ she’s got a pretty good motive, but since you folk live in a distant land, ‘ow would she even know where ‘e lives or be able to get there? Not many folks round ‘ere own one of them fancy staffs – we’ve barely got the money to feed ourselves!”

Alfor took out his necklace. “This amulet allows the holder to locate anyone in the world. Not many sorcerers own such an item, but it’s still possible Neekerba somehow got her hands on one.”

“It’s enough of a mystery how she learned sorcery in the first place!” said Valayun, “Does she ever meet with any sorcerers? Or do you not know because she keeps to herself?”

“Per’aps. She ‘angs out enough during the day for ‘er to be ‘aving secret meetings with ‘eaven knows who…” She put a hand to her forehead, still rather in shock. “This really is a lot to take in, I tell you! I never really thought much of ‘er reclusive behaviour or nothin’…we just got on with our separate lives. I’ve got five adult children with little ‘uns of their own to look after…the youngest is three phoebs old. ‘ow old is young Afen?”

“He’s two decaphoebs old,” said Pike, “And he has all the energy in the world! Man, I can hardly keep up with him…”

“Don’t they all?” The dwarf woman chuckled, looking a lot more relaxed.

“Wait a minute, Pike…” interjected Valayun, her face turning serious, “You just made me realise something. Block and Meklavar stopped going on quests after they got married. Therefore, Afen was born decaphoebs after Terrig passed away. That means Terrig’s mother couldn’t have known that they had a child at the time her son died…somehow, she must have found out later.”

The group went silent. This new revelation made the case even more chilling than before, yet entirely feasible if she had an amulet like Alfor theorised.

Valayun looked at the ogress’ hovel. “I believe she may have been plotting her revenge for quite some time…”

…

It was at least another hour before Neekerba returned home. The elderly ogress was carrying a basket and hobbling along with a stick in the direction of her scruffy house. Her skin was dark green with grey and white hair in a messy plait. Her large canines jutted upward out of her bottom lip and her face was so wrinkled it gave her a grumpy expression. Like her neighbour, her clothes were ragged and dirty, with several patches.

She was within a few metres of arriving at her door when all of a sudden she heard something. It sounded like a knife being sharpened. Slowly, she turned to see what it was.

Behind her was a man in his early thirties with black hair and a tiara, clad in armour befitting a Paladin, aiming a sword right at her head.

“Halt!” he said sternly.

The old woman was so shocked she dropped her basket, spilling its contents everywhere. A young man with cat ears swooped down to pick up one of the items she’d dropped.

“Toadstools!” he observed, getting back to his full height, “I wonder how many magic potions you could make with these little guys…” He turned the fungus in all directions, inspecting it at every angle.

“Pike, we don’t know what they’re supposed to be used for,” said the Paladin, “They could be a staple part of an ogre’s diet in these lands.”

“…they also are pretty poisonous to most species from what I’ve heard.” He dangled the mould by the stalk back and forth between his thumb and index finger, eying it closely. “You never know, they could be used in a potion to make someone ill…?”

“Take them!” Neekerba begged, “All of them! If you must! I don’t have much to spare…”

“We’re not trying to rob you, ma’am,” assured Jiro, sliding his sword back into its sheath, “We just need to ask you some questions.”

He left the next part to his Valayun. “It’s about your son Terrig.”

The woman turned away from her, clearly not wanting to answer.

“This is an urgent matter,” said Alfor.

“I don’t talk about him…” replied Neekerba, holding up her hand and heading in the direction of her house.

“Neekerba!” called a familiar voice, “Don’t you dare try to get away from us. I’ve got a few questions I’d like to ask you m’self. Like what you been doing all day for the past couple of years. Don’t think I ‘aven’t noticed you’re rarely ‘ome…” It was her neighbour.

“I go out shopping. It helps to pass the time…” She tried to continue on towards her house but Pike blocked her.

“And just what are you shopping for?” He folded his arms.

“Food. Clothing. Medicine. It varies from day to day…”

“So, what were you planning to use those mushrooms for?” He put his hands on his hips and leaned towards her face intrusively. “Making any more potions to poison little boys with…huh? I guess just eating him would have made you too obvious a suspect…”

“Pike, that’s enough!” said Jiro, “Neekerba, we are friends of a couple named Block and Meklavar. You will know them as the duo that had your son imprisoned.”

The ogress turned to face him and scowled.

“Not long ago, their child Afen contracted a serious illness that seems to be unable to be affected by all of Block’s skills in sorcery,” continued the Paladin, “We have reason to believe you may be behind it. Such a disease could only be created through sorcery and you have a solid motivation to get revenge on Block and Meklavar. We are aware that Terrig died of pneumonia in prison – after initially catching the flu from his captors.”

“I don’t know anything about sorcery!” snapped Neekerba, “Do I look like I’m rich? I could never afford the ingredients for spells, let alone learn how to use them!” She began picking up her toadstools and stuffing them back into her basket. “You should be ashamed of yourself, accosting an old woman like this. I’m pretty certain that goes directly against the principles a Paladin swears to uphold.”

“Ma’am, I am bound to protect the innocent, but you are not proven innocent or guilty. We will need to interrogate you further if we are to discover the truth. If you are indeed innocent, you have nothing to fear…”

…

Pike and Valayun searched the woman’s house. Though Jiro disliked the thought of intruding on her privacy, he knew it was necessary to determine whether or not she was really was the malicious perpetrator of a terrible crime. So far, however, the pair hadn’t found anything remotely suspicious and he was beginning to worry the opposite could be true…

“What’s this?” Pike took something out of Neekerba’s bedside cabinet. Well…actually, it probably wasn’t supposed to function as a bedside cupboard. It just happened to be next to it because there was hardly any room in the hovel. Her bed consisted of a wooden rectangle on the floor with an out-of-shape pillow, some straw as a mattress and a sheepskin for warmth. Her fireplace was made out of rough stones on the ground, a pile of sticks gathered from nearby forests beside them, with an old cauldron hanging above it. This was the only item in the room that looked like it could even possibly be sorcery paraphernalia. There weren’t even any dried herbs or books lying around anywhere. Could the woman even read?

Pike inspected the item he’d found. It was a bottle, containing a dark liquid of some kind. “Well, what have we here…?”

He took the small flask over to Alfor, looking proud of himself.

“What is this?” Alfor asked the ogress.

“It’s medicine!” responded the old woman sharply, “For coughs, colds, the flu…that sort of thing.”

The elvish sorcerer took out the stopper and gave it a sniff. “I think I recognise the scent. I’ve made this potion many times before…”

Alfor had cured so many people in his time, administering medicines and casting healing spells. The potion he was holding was one of the first things most sorcerers learned to make. He recalled giving it to his lovely daughter Valayun, and also his wife Melenor, when she was still alive…

“Where did you get this from?” he asked.

Neekerba hesitated. All eyes were upon her. “A sorcerer,” she admitted, “We have some of them in these lands, you know. Not very many though.”

“Well, I cannot find anything else even remotely connected to sorcery,” said Valayun, having practically turned the place upside-down.

Pike tried to think of anywhere else in the house he could possibly look. He’d already peeked under the bed, fingered through all the straw on the ground and sniffed the floors just in case there was secretly a trap-door or something underneath the dirt…was there anywhere else to look?

The same despair he’d felt earlier when they’d found out Terrig was dead washed back over him. He had to find something – anything! – that could suggest Neekerba practiced sorcery or bought more than just medicines from the local mages. They just couldn’t give up! It was Afen’s last chance. The one very slim last chance he had of survival…

Valayun and Alfor looked forlorn. Neekerba’s neighbour stared at the floor, a fist to her mouth. Jiro began to apologise to the ogress. Something about how he was sorry for the trouble and they shouldn’t have barged in and blah blah blah…he wasn’t really listening. Instead, he was scanning every inch of the room – floor to ceiling – looking for a place the woman could be hiding sorcery equipment. Much as he wanted there to be a trap door or a secret tunnel (perhaps leading under the hill?) or something, he could easily imagine Valayun or Jiro explaining to him it was extremely unlikely in such a cheap, poorly built house. He hated to admit it, but they were probably right. Still, that didn’t mean there couldn’t be some other place she was using. Did she hide all her stuff in some magical dimension that could only be entered by someone who knew the correct incantation? (He’d heard this was possible, but probably for people who were biologically mages.) What if she actually kept her sorcery equipment in a hiding place that wasn’t anywhere near her home? Perhaps she had some old bag of bottles and jars stuffed under a random tree in nearby woodland that they had an unlikely chance of ever finding. She must sneak out to it during the day and somehow discreetly mix together her potions.

Once again Pike felt his hope snatched from him. That was it! That must be it! The old hag really did practice sorcery but had cleverly hidden all her apparatus somewhere deep in the forest where no-one would ever discover it and thus, without proof she was to blame for Afen’s death, her sickeningly evil deed would go unpunished. Jiro and the others were already writing her off as innocent. He began to seethe with rage, every speck of hatred he could muster directed at the old woman. She had to have made Afen sick! All the clues added up so perfectly. If she hadn’t crafted the illness, then who had? Alfor had said it had to have been created via sorcery.

He desperately tried to think of another answer to the puzzle. Neekerba said there weren’t many sorcerers in the land, but she had a bottle of medicine from one, didn’t she? Was there some way she could have hired a rogue sorcerer to make the illness? Much like with the tree theory, he knew there was no way he could prove it. Even if they were able to find out the identity of whatever shady enchanter she had paid her blood money to, for all they knew, he could have exited the country long ago and be in some distant land it would take forever to get to. There was so much they didn’t know and couldn’t know. It was driving him mad!

Was there some way Alfor’s necklace could help find the sorcerer…if he actually existed? As far as he knew, the amulet could find the homes of people, not necessarily the people themselves. What if his legal residence was far away from his current location?

Despite the discouraging nature of the two theories, he couldn’t think of another, more promising one. They were all he could come up with after concluding there was nowhere in the house she could possibly conceal her…WAIT A MINUTE.

Suddenly, Pike bolted out the door. Jiro stopped mid-sentence. “Pike!” he cried, rushing after him.

The others followed and by the time they were all outside, there was quite a sight to behold. Pike had jumped right onto the straw roof of the hovel and was sniffing it.

“Pike? What on Altea are you doing?!” exclaimed Valayun. He looked as though he’d lost his mind!

“GET DOWN FROM THERE!” barked the ogress, shaking her cane, “How dare you climb on my house, boy?! Have you no respect?”

“Do be careful!” shouted Valayun, “You could fall straight through!”

Pike clambered over the roof, balancing himself with his tail, sniffing all the while. He’d extended his claws and was using them to grip the messy straw.

“I’ve had enough of this!” growled Neekerba. She threw her staff at the roof and Pike narrowly missed being hit by it.

“HEY!” he cried. The cane rolled off the roof and clattered to the ground.

“I want you to leave! All of you! You have no right to intrude on my property like this!”

“Pike!” Jiro called, “I have to agree with her. I need you to get down – immediately!”

_Let me guess?_ thought Pike scathingly, _Because it’s against what a Paladin is taught is the right way of doing things or blah blah blah! Well guess what, Jiro? I’m NOT a Paladin!_

There had to be some evidence on the roof. He could smell it! _Literally_ smell it…

“PIKE!” Jiro reiterated, “I COMMAND you to get down from there. It isn’t right that…”

Pike tore his nails into the straw and began ripping it off. Neekerba screeched in horror.

“PIKE STOP!”

The ex-thief didn’t listen. He continued to dig into the straw as fast as his claws would let him.

“PIKE. I have given you THREE warnings. If you do not STOP right now I will have to…”

At that moment, something fell off the roof. As a matter of fact, it was quite a few somethings. They slid right down the straw covering and landed right in front of the audience that had gathered. All eyes were upon the items that Pike had uncovered.

Amongst them were a ragged old bag with a gaping hole in the side, a carved bowl, several bottles, a handful of crystals, two books and a small vial of something rather unpleasant looking…

As swiftly as the wind, Neekerba suddenly snatched up her staff. Jiro whipped out his sword and Valayun strung her bow, her eagle eye on her potential target. Alfor created a magic circle, preparing himself for the oncoming battle.

However, before anyone could throw the first shot, Neekerba grabbed hold of her neighbour and pulled her into a headlock.

“Let me go or SHE DIES!”

The dwarf woman was in a choke hold, struggling to breathe. The three armed adventurers weren’t quite sure how to proceed, when without warning, Pike teleported right beside the two women and pounced upon them. Neekerba screamed as she was tackled to the ground, the dwarf managing to escape whilst she and Pike were struggling. She ran behind Alfor for safety.

After half a minute of fighting tooth and nail – quite literally for Pike – the ogress threw him off her body, displaying remarkable strength for a woman her age. The rogue managed to land on his hands and feet, getting back up quickly to continue the battle.

She and Jiro began to duel, cane against sword, whilst Valayun shot an arrow at her. She noticed the arrow at just the crucial moment and, almost so quickly her opponents didn’t have a chance to register what had happened, used her staff to knock it in Alfor’s direction. The sorcerer was just about to cast a magic circle when he realised he’d been hit.

He looked down to see an arrow jabbing into his flesh – right on his hip, one of the few places not protected by armour. The ogress had been so quick and precise, it was unbelievable.

“Valayun?” he cried, picking the projectile out of his side, “What spell was on that arrow?” He was starting to feel a little light-headed. He collapsed to his knees, the woman behind him putting a hand on his shoulder.

His daughter was reloading her bow. “A mild sleeping potion. It should wear off after a varga or two.”

Pike jumped onto the back on the old woman, teeth bared. He managed to wrestle her to the ground again and eventually Jiro was holding his sword to her throat. Neekerba glared at him, no longer bothering with the “innocent old lady” routine.

Alfor fell to the ground, completely unconscious, while Valayun aimed another arrow at the ogress’ head. The neighbour was stood behind Alfor, looking daggers at the woman she’d lived beside for so many years.

“We need to talk,” said Jiro sternly.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The dwarf neighbour fetched some thick rope from her house and before long Neekerba was strapped to a tree. Her bonds were strong enough to stop even her from breaking free…they hoped.

Valayun and Pike had moved Alfor onto the ogress’ bed and were now joining in the interrogation.

Jiro held up the vial of liquid Pike had located. “Can you tell me what’s in here?”

The woman scowled but didn’t answer.

Jiro then began looking through the books with Pike and Valayun. Inside were all kinds of spells and potion recipes. Though they were written in a language that was difficult to understand and had few illustrations, something about them emanated darkness.

“I’m no expert on sorcery, but these do not look like my father’s books,” observed Valayun, “Once he awakens, he will need to take a look at them. There is terrible magic in these books – I can sense it in everything that came from the bag!”

Pike fingered the crystals. Though they mostly looked the same as any other kind used by practitioners of magic, something about them made him feel uneasy. He put them down, fearing some dark force might leap from them to seal his doom.

Valayun studied the contents in the containers. All of them gave her a vile feeling, deep in her mind and soul. She was sickened to think what black deeds each concoction was capable of. She took hold of the small vial and felt the worst feeling out of all of them coming from it. This had to be the potion that made Afen sick. Only something that was being used to kill an innocent could have such an evil sensation of magic attached to it.

“How did she administer this mixture to Afendorn?” she wondered out loud.

“Probably dropped some in ‘is porridge or somethin’,” suggested the neighbour, “It’s enough to chill you to the bone, thinkin’ ‘ow someone like ‘er could’ve snuck round ‘is place...”

“But how did she get to his house?” asked Pike, “Can her staff fly like Block’s?”

“It’s possible,” responded Jiro. He picked up the item, which was sat beside him. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over it, trying to see if he could sense any power. “This staff is magic, all right,” he concluded, opening his eyes. “It looks like we have all the evidence we need to prosecute her.” Still, a pang of guilt remained in his heart. He turned to his roguish friend, who was now fiddling with some grass blades. “I’m sorry about earlier, Pike.”

The cat-boy’s ears pricked up.

“As a Paladin, I’m bound to put rules and regulations first, rather than trusting my instincts…but it was thanks to your instincts that we were able to find these items. Thank you, Pike, for not giving up.”

Pike sat up and smiled in response. Jiro offered him his hand, which he shook.

“No problem,” responded the ex-thief.

Valayun was happy for them, but something continued to plague her mind. “Something I still don’t understand is how Neekerba _found_ Block and Meklavar’s cottage. My father suggested she might have an amulet like the one he uses, but we haven’t found one amongst her things.”

Pike looked at the old woman. Was it possible she did have a talisman but was hiding it someplace else? He’d looked all around her house but had only found the bottle of medicine. Where else could she be hiding it…?

Suddenly, he jumped up and ran over to her. The ogress gave him a disgusted expression but he didn’t let it deter him. When he’d tackled her during the fight, he’d sensed something upon her…a hint of magic. He hadn’t really had a chance to think where it might be coming from, what with the intensity of the situation. Lots of people carried charms in their pockets or had them sewn into their clothes, so it made perfect sense that she would hide her talisman in a similar place. He carefully slipped his hand behind her neck, sensing that there was something enchanted hanging around it, but concealed beneath her ragged clothes. He felt a metal chain and slowly pulled it over the woman’s head…

“…we have now!” he cried triumphantly, holding up the amulet for everyone to see.

…

After another hour, Alfor began to stir. He was accustomed to waking up in unfamiliar places, but it still took a while to register just how he’d ended up where he was. He must have been laid down in the ogress’ house after being hit with the tranquiliser arrow. He slowly sat up, trying to recount what had happened before he’d been struck unconscious. He remembered the battle…the bag that had fallen off the roof…what was inside…

Quickly, he got off the bed and made his way to the exit. Outside, Jiro, Valayun, Pike and the dwarf neighbour were sat in a circle around the little pile of sorcery equipment, the captured ogress not far away. They were engaged in a discussion with each other, but immediately noticed when Alfor emerged from the hovel.

“Father!” cried Valayun, getting to her feet, “We need you to analyse this. I believe it may be the potion Neekerba used to make Afen ill.”

She handed him the vial of dark liquid. Alfor could feel the wicked power radiating from it as it touched his hand. “I haven’t seen anything like this in a long time…” he thought aloud, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger to get a closer look.

Pike rose up as well, holding open one of Neekerba’s spell books. “So, what do you make of THIS?” He held it above his head, pages facing downwards, and twisted it around, pretending to try to read it. “We can’t make head or tail of it!”

He then handed the tome to the sorcerer. Alfor looked carefully through the pages and his eyes began to widen. “I’ve never seen a book filled with such evil magic before. I don’t even know where she could have got this from!” Perhaps she had met and bargained with a powerful dark sorcerer, even though it was unlikely they’d part with such an item. Still, the fact that her son had been called a “master thief” made him wonder just where Terrig had learned his skills from…

He decided to have a thorough look through both volumes. It was possible he might find the recipe used to craft the potion somewhere inside.

Even so, it was most likely going to take a long while before he was anywhere near crafting an antidote. His thoughts turned to Afen. It had been many hours since they’d left his house to embark on their quest and they had no way of knowing what state he was in. Was the little boy even still alive or had their valiant efforts been in vain…?

…

Block and Meklavar had eaten a small supper of some cabbage, potatoes and chicken, offering some to Afen, but he refused. They ended up leaving most of their food, barely able to swallow anything.

They had watched over the toddler all day and barely heard him say a word, but a short while after dinner, something changed.

“Mom?” he whispered, opening his eyes.

“I’m here,” whispered the dwarf, taking hold of his hand, “What is it, little guy?”

The child muttered something barely comprehensible about a bright light, seemingly rather agitated.

“He must be hallucinating,” Meklavar whispered to her husband. It had happened to him a couple of times before during his high fever.

“Meklavar…” Block said solemnly. He put a hand on her shoulder. His wife turned to see he had tears in his eyes. He swallowed. “He’s not hallucinating.”

Meklavar closed her eyes and bit her lip, refusing to cry in front of her son. She turned back to him and drew her face near his, opening her eyes. “It’s OK, little guy,” she said softly, “You can let go now. Your Dad and I are right beside you.”

She smiled wistfully and planted a kiss on his forehead. Once she’d finished, Block leaned over and kissed him as well.

“Raising you was our greatest quest,” said Block, a tear trickling down his cheek.

He and his wife sat back and waited. Their little son closed his eyes again and lay still. His breaths grew shorter and shorter until…they were no more.

After about a minute, Block took hold of Afen’s wrist and pressed firmly. He waited several seconds before retracting his hand.

“He’s gone.”

Meklavar fell upon her son’s lifeless body and began to cry. Block placed a hand on her back. Tears were streaming down his own face. After about a minute, Meklavar sat up and Block wrapped his arms around her. The pair embraced, trying so hard to comfort each other, and they were silent for a while.

Through their minds flashed images. Their friends returning back from their quest victoriously, with the antidote, only to find there was no-one to use it upon. A funeral being held in their local chapel, all their friends and relatives surrounding a tiny wooden coffin and weeping. A small gravestone in the churchyard, besides which they would place a bouquet of green and yellow flowers. “How are you doing, little guy?” Meklavar would ask him, “I sure hope our ancestors are treating you well up there. We miss you every day, our brave little warrior…” “Raising you was our greatest quest,” Block would reiterate, “I just sure wish it could have been longer…”

The hearth in their cottage, which they would sit in front of conversing as they always did after dinner, but now their home seemed conspicuously empty. Their bedroom, where they would continue to share intimacy, probably managing to conceive again, only to lose pregnancy after pregnancy, their hopes of having another child diminishing every time. The hearth again, only this time they were no longer a young couple in their early twenties – they had grown old together, still so happy to be married but yet so deeply sad. Block’s kind face was wrinkled and his once thick, black hair was grey and balding. He still looked upon his wife with such fondness though, thinking she was every bit as beautiful as she was the day they were married. Her hair had also gone grey and was once again cut short – a rather edgy style for even older women by their society’s standards. She was wearing a pair of round, oversized reading spectacles and had a dark green shawl wrapped around her shoulders to keep her skinny body warm. Despite her “old granny” appearance, she had an action-ready grin upon her face. Meklavar was still every bit as much a badass warrior on the inside, even though her body had grown frail and she struggled to walk without a cane (partly as a result of exerting her body so much when she was younger), which could double as a weapon were she to need one. Despite their love and friendship being as strong as ever, the emptiness of their house seemed even greater. In front of them should be their children, grandchildren, even great-grandchildren…but alas, there were none. Afendorn’s brief life seemed even shorter now they’d seen so many years, yet they never forgot about him – the one precious child they ever had the opportunity to raise. Though the pair smiled, so grateful to still have each other’s company, there was an undeniable loneliness in the air…

“He lived for just two and a half decaphoebs…” said Meklavar in the present, her face buried upon her husband’s bosom, “And I’m sure grateful for every day we had with him. I can’t believe he’s dead…” The last word choked her up so badly she couldn’t speak.

“I’ve known you for over seven decaphoebs now,” responded Block, “And I’ve cherished every day with you. All those decaphoebs ago, I never knew that one day I’d see you become a mother – much less the mother of my son.” He was struck with strong emotions and began to sob loudly. Meklavar had never heard him do this before.

After another short silence, the young warrior said, “Our fourth anniversary is in just two phoebs now.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be in the mood for celebrating this decaphoeb…”

It then occurred to Block that all the things that would happen to them in future – big events like birthdays and anniversaries and weddings and christenings, as well as more mundane things like doing the laundry, making the dinner and wrestling before bedtime – would be done without him. It was astonishing to think that only a few years ago, he hadn’t even existed, yet in his short lifetime, he’d become such an integral part of their lives. They’d made so many plans for him. He’d become close with all their friends and family members. Block and Meklavar’s heart ached to imagine the reactions of their families when they told them the tragic news. Currently, none of them even knew that Afen had fallen ill. They were getting about on their daily lives, blissfully unaware of what had happened. Aeryn was probably singing lullabies to his baby daughter this very moment.

On a normal night, Block and Meklavar would have been serenading their own child to sleep. A sleep that would only be temporary. A sleep that he would arise from in the morning. It pained them to remember how much they’d taken for granted in the past. Now their beautiful son lay prostrate and unmoving, a lifeless shell, lost to a deep sleep from which he’d never awaken…

…

Jiro and the dwarf neighbour had fetched the local beadle to take Neekerba into custody, showing him some of the evidence that had been found. Meanwhile, Alfor began trying to concoct an antidote for Afen’s illness…which was easier said than done, to say the least. First, he had to work out what exactly was in the vial. Considering that forensic science was very primitive in his universe, he had to rely on his strong connection with magic. He held the vial in one hand and flicked through each spell book with his other, trying to sense which page contained the recipe for what was inside.

It took a while but eventually he found the one. It wasn’t hard to tell it was the potion in the vial – the page emitted the same unmistakable dark feeling. Next, he had to get the ingredients for the medicine. That was a little more complicated than it might sound as there wasn’t actually an antidote for the illness written in the tome, but Alfor was an extremely knowledgeable sorcerer and managed to work out just what would be in it. He, Valayun and Pike ventured off to various dealers to collect what he needed. Thankfully, some of the ingredients were things he already had at hand (such as a toadstool, much to Pike’s satisfaction) and within two hours he’d finished making the potion, having “borrowed” Neekerba’s cauldron to heat it up.

His team-mates were now all gathered and they watched as he poured the life-saving mixture into a vial of its own. The liquid inside of it was a murky green – not the most pleasant colour, but at least the magic it emanated had a neutral feeling. Now that they had what they’d come for, it was time to set off.

“Thank you for all your help.” Jiro shook the dwarf neighbour’s hand. “Mrs-? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Aeryndal,” responded the woman.

“Aeryndal?” piped up Pike, “That’s the name of Meklavar’s brother!”

“I ‘ear it can be a fella’s name as well!” She shook Pike’s hand next and gave him a hug. “Please send this Meklavar my love. It sounds like she and ‘er ‘usband could do with it after all me neighbour put ‘em through. I’d like to see ‘er rot in goal after what she did to their little’un.”

Valayun gave her a cuddle as well and Alfor shook her hand, before they sat on the staff and began their long journey back, their stomachs empty after not having had the chance to eat dinner. It was hours before they reached Block and Meklavar’s house and the sun started to go down on the way. By the time they’d arrived back at the cottage, it was night-time.

Holding up the precious vial of medicine in one hand, Alfor knocked on their door with the other. There was excitement as it began to open. Finally they could tell the wondrous news to their friends – their son was going to live!

However, as soon as it opened, they began to feel the mood change. Block answered the door and the very sight of his grave face, visible bags under his eyes, was enough to tell them something was wrong.

He caught sight of the vial and got a lump in his throat. “You’re too late…” He swallowed. “Afen passed away a couple vargas ago.” He closed his eyes forlornly.

Valayun gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Pike looked aghast. After all they’d been through, narrowly avoiding never finding out whether or not the ogress was responsible for Afen’s illness… NO. It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t be!

Jiro bowed his head and put a fist to his heart, a sign of mourning. He’d done this same pose many a time at two separate graveyards far away from Block and Meklavar’s home. In a corner of the first garden was a section dedicated to soldiers’ graves. Amongst them lay the remains of Merzak, whom he visited whenever he could to pay his respects. He would sometimes pick wildflowers and place them beside his headstone. In the second garden, since his brother Shiro had been completely destroyed without leaving even any ashes, his name was carved on a memorial, which he would also place flowers by. He would often talk to his crush and his twin, telling him about the missions he’d accomplished and the friends he’d made, but at some point he’d always end up weeping. He went at an hour where normally no one else was there, so he didn’t have to be seen.

It was hard enough knowing he was going to live the rest of his life without Merzak or Shiro or Shiro’s mentor D’Janna…but now he knew he would be visiting yet another graveyard, this time not all that far from where his friends lived. This one would be the final resting place of their firstborn child, Afendorn. Though it pained him that Merzak and Shiro had been snatched from the world so prematurely, both of them had been adult men. Afen had lived such a brief life and for that reason, perhaps his loss would be even harder for everyone to bear.

Alfor lowered the vial. “May we see him?” he petitioned.

Block invited them in and they went up to Afendorn’s candlelit room. Meklavar was sat beside the end of the bed, resting her head on the mattress. Block went over and gently shook her.

“Baby, they’re here.”

Meklavar opened her eyes, having dozed off some time ago. She spotted her friends in the doorway of the bedroom. A pang of sorrow hit her when she remembered why they were here.

She rubbed her eyes and slowly got up. “Hey, guys.”

She turned to face the bed and had to fight off tears. Block placed a hand on her shoulder as their friends stepped into the room.

What they saw came to haunt the deepest parts of their minds. Upon the bed lay the body of Afendorn, motionless and pristine. He was still wearing the clothes they’d seen him in earlier. Unlike back then, when he’d been suffering from a high fever and nausea, now his face was its regular colour and he was longer in any pain.

Pike came over to the bed and gently took hold of the little boy’s hand. It had gone cold and the sensation deeply disturbed him. Afen was gone! He was really gone. Tears fell out of both his eyes and he wiped them away with his sleeve. Like Meklavar, he wasn’t prone to showing emotions unless they were very strong, but this was by far the saddest thing he’d ever experienced in his life. Block, Meklavar, Jiro and Valayun (who was visibly upset herself) gave him a cuddle to comfort him.

“You were a great uncle, Pike,” said Block, “The best uncle our son could have ever had.”

Though the sight was unfamiliar to Pike and Jiro, Valayun and Alfor felt an immense surge in déjà vu. This certainly wasn’t the first time they’d seen a freshly dead body. Through their minds flashed images, triggered by the sight of the lifeless Afen. A beautiful woman – Alfor’s wife and Valayun’s mother – lying upon her and Alfor’s bed; her long, fluffy white hair billowing around her. A young Valayun sinking her face upon the duvet and weeping inconsolably. Alfor placing a hand on her shoulder and mourning with her. The scene was so similar it almost felt as though history was repeating itself.

Block, Meklavar, Jiro and Valayun let go of Pike.

“Thank you,” said Block to everyone, “You guys really tried to save him. You did all you could, but I guess he just went too soon…” He started to tear up again, when suddenly he remembered something. “Wait…who was it that you got the antidote from? I kind of forgot to ask…”

Alfor once again held up the vial. “We visited all the names on the list, with the exception of the ogre Terrig. It turns out he died in prison after catching the flu, which developed into a more serious illness due to the poor conditions.”

“Hang on…did you say the flu?” He and Meklavar looked chilled, starting to put two and two together.

“Indeed, he caught it from the pair of you before his imprisonment. His mother was angered by his death and hatched a plan for revenge. We had her taken into custody by the local authorities and she will be tried for using sorcery with malicious intent.”

Block and Meklavar turned to look at their deceased son, in even more shock now they knew who was responsible for his death.

“How did she make him sick?” asked Meklavar, pretty bewildered.

“We don’t know for certain, but our theory is that she found out where you live using an amulet like my own and put some of the potion into his food. Her intention must have been not to kill either of you two, but rather to make you suffer the same fate as her.”

Block’s eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth, suddenly realising something.

“Meklavar?” he asked, “You don’t suppose she could have…” He began to cry again.

His wife knew what he was getting at. “I honestly have no idea, Block.” She turned to her friends. “Before Afen got ill, Block and I were trying to get pregnant again. We managed two or three times, but each time I lost the baby. Could she have poisoned me?” Pike, Jiro and Valayun were rather taken aback. This was the first they had heard of the secret trials the couple were going through.

Alfor considered this for a moment. “It’s possible, but without proof we’ll never know.”

_Without proof we’ll never know. Without proof we’ll never know._ Those words echoed in his head, coupled with flashbacks from years before. His wife struggling through her sickness, despite the medicine he administered to her. Her dead body, lying upon their bed. The funeral ceremony that had been held at the local cemetery. The many nights he’d stayed up late, studying his books on sorcery, desperately trying to find out just what was the illness that had taken her from him. The times he’d eventually gone to bed, watering his pillow as he saw how empty it was without his beloved Melenor. The gaols he’d visited, questioning any possible suspects he thought might have wanted to harm her. Her illness had not been a normal one, he determined. It had to have been created through sorcery – but by whom? He’d talked about it with many older, more seasoned sorcerers, but their responses could be summed down to one sentence: “ _Without proof we’ll never know_ …”

It was a mystery he’d never solved. He’d eventually had to give up trying to solve it, to be fair on Valayun. He’d never told her about his theory of how her mother died. She was such a sweet, innocent child and he did not want to expose her to any more darkness than she’d already experienced. In fact, she still didn’t know now. Despite his great pain and desire for justice, he chose to let it go. He’d dedicated himself to raising Valayun, knowing it would be what his wife would have wanted.

She would be so proud of the young woman their daughter had grown into – gentle and feminine, yet fiercely independent and a skilled fighter. Just like her.

He’d worked so hard to provide for her over the years, becoming increasingly more skilled in his craft. Something in particular he’d learned a long time ago had been nagging him for a while now and he knew he could not keep it a secret a moment longer…

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” said Valayun, a hand to her lips. She gave Meklavar another cuddle. “Even if it was just a natural loss each time, it must have been so hard on the both of you. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child…let alone three or four.”

“Block? Meklavar?” Alfor interrupted. Valayun let go of her dwarf friend. “I might…have something to suggest. I am uncertain whether or not it will work, as your son has been dead for several vargas, but…” He paused, wondering if it was wrong to get their hopes up. Already their curiosity appeared to have been peaked, as all eyes were now upon him. It was too late to change his mind now…

He looked the couple in the eye. “…I might be able to bring him back.”


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

There was a stunned silence that followed his extraordinary revelation.

“Father?” Valayun eventually said, “Are you talking about necromancy?”

“I have some experience in the subject, yes.”

“Are you certain this is a good idea? You’ve always told me it was the riskiest form of magic…”

The world of amateur necromancy had its fair share of horror stories, but Alfor was no amateur. He’d heard so many terrible anecdotes, but he’d also learned from the masters. Though he’d never attempted to bring anyone – or anything – back to life before, he was confident that he had the skills to do so without any complications…or at least, he hoped.

“Valayun, I think it is up to his parents to decide…”

He looked directly at Block and Meklavar.

“You’re saying you could bring back our son…from the dead?” repeated Block. He thought about what Valayun had said. _You’ve always told me it was the riskiest form of magic_ … He’d heard similar statements from his mother and some other sorcerers he knew. What did that mean, exactly? Did he actually want to find out…?

“Do it!” cried Meklavar, breaking him out of his chain of thought, “Just do it! We’ve got nothing to lose…”

Her husband still wasn’t sure. Valayun was a very sensible woman who lacked the impulsiveness of his wife. Much as he loved Meklavar’s determination, he needed a rational thinker at this time. This was his only child they were talking about, whom he’d already born the pain of losing…

“Block, do you trust me?” asked Alfor. He looked him in the eye.

The young sorcerer tried to think this over. He was placing his son’s life in Alfor’s hands. He knew little about how necromancy worked, just that it should never be attempted by anyone who was not an expert in the subject. Alfor was no doubt an expert in sorcery, but was he knowledgeable enough to attempt to revive his son?

“I want to!” He shut his eyes tight. “B…but I’m so scared! I don’t want you to lose your soul or turn my son into a zombie or summon a demon or get possessed by a poltergeist or…”

Alfor put his hand on Block’s shoulder. “Take it easy, big guy.” He smiled. “That’s what your wife calls you, isn’t it?”

Block opened his eyes and started to calm down. “Do you really think you can do this? Necromancy is the riskiest form of magic – Valayun said it herself! Anything could go wrong…I don’t want the situation to get any worse than it is!”

“Block – do you trust me?” repeated Alfor, firmly but kindly.

The young mage thought this over once more.

“YES!” He shut his eyes again.

Alfor thumped his shoulder and went over to Afen’s bed. He kneeled down and inspected the little boy’s body.

“Meklavar?” he asked, “Would you mind fetching any favourite items of Afendorn’s? I will need them for the ritual.”

The dwarf woman reached under the bed and pulled out a wooden horse. “This was his favourite toy,” she said.

_Was._ It pained her so much to speak of her child in the past tense.

She handed it to Alfor, who placed it on the blanket, just beside Afen’s body.

“Did he have any favourite flowers in your garden? I saw it was in full bloom.”

Meklavar thought this over. “He really loved the primroses. He said they smelt real nice. I’ll go get some.”

She got up and made her way out of the room, all the while images flashing through her mind of her son sticking his nose into the primroses and sniffing deeply, sometimes almost falling in. She remembered trying not to get annoyed with him whenever he “helped” around the garden, often asking Block to watch him while she was busy. The little monkey would pick up her tools and try to dig up the soil, often where she had flowers planted. Block would pull the spade from his hands and pick him up, giving him a wrestle, the toddler squealing in delight. Meklavar, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat, would pause at digging up the weeds to look at the pair, rolling her eyes with a smile. Her face often came out in freckles when she worked in her garden and her husband thought they were beautiful, giving him more excuses to kiss her cheeks. They were happy memories, filled with sunshine and laughter…

Next, Alfor asked Block to fetch one of Afen’s favourite foods (egg and soldiers was the first thing that came to mind) and some of his sorcery equipment. He gave Pike the errand of getting some water out of the nearby river (where they’d had such fun swimming the year before) and instructed Valayun and Jiro to get some other bits and pieces he’d need to perform the ritual.

Once everything was gathered, Alfor lit a few more candles and meditated in preparation. Meklavar laid a fragrant bouquet of flowers on top of her son’s body, as though preparing him for a funeral, placing one of his hands on top of the bundle. It disturbed her that his skin had now gone even colder.

Block positioned a plate of egg and soldiers – one strip of bread dunked into the gooey yolk – beside Afen’s bed. Perhaps when – and if – he awakened and was cured by the medicine, it would be his first post-illness meal. The couple then stood back, along with their friends, who seemed equally anxious about what Alfor was getting ready to attempt.

The sorcerer eventually opened his eyes and knew that he would have to start the rite before it would be too late for Afendorn. He crushed some herbs in a bowl, mixed in a splash of river water and mumbled an incantation. A glitter of magic started to fizzle from the mixture. He said another spell and began rubbing the herbs between his fingers. He set down the bowl and got to his feet, muttering all the while in a strange language none of the others (including Block) could understand.

The young father had his arm around his wife. She looked at him and gave a reassuring smile. Man, she was so brave! Block smiled back, trying to focus his thoughts on her. It was the only thing he could do to stop intrusive visions of all the many things that could go wrong with the ritual springing up in his mind. She currently had no freckles on her cheeks from being too busy to tend to her garden over the past several days. There were also reassuringly no bags under her eyes today, after she’d slept well the night before. Block was pretty sure he must have them though. The memory of staying up last night made him yawn. Boy, would he be glad to get a good night’s rest again. Perhaps he would do the coming night, if Alfor got the ritual right.

He thought of his wife’s slowly shrinking body. She needed to be whole again, before she became seriously underweight. Everything – his son’s life, his wife’s health, his own wellbeing – rested in Alfor’s hands.

He of all people had shared her body in more intimate ways than anyone else. He loved showing her affection in any way (and had done almost as long as he’d known her), as long as she wasn’t out of her level of comfort. Meklavar was someone who was fearless in the face of almost certain death, yet so vulnerable when it came to a physical relationship.

During the two years between Afen’s birth and the time they’d tried to conceive again, he had to admit he’d really missed having sex with her. While their son was still a baby, they’d been too tired from constantly being woken up by his cries to even massage each other before bedtime, but after his sleeping routine had settled down, he and Meklavar had more time for cuddles and play fights. He’d tried to turn this into intercourse, but she’d told him that she didn’t want another baby just yet and he’d left it at that.

That was all sex was to her, it seemed. The act of procreation. That was not to say she didn’t enjoy it, though. She just didn’t have the same enthusiasm for it that he did. Block had never considered himself an especially sexual person – or at least not one who was poor at controlling his urges – but he’d always been fond of hugs and kisses and giving them to those he was closest to. His desires hadn’t changed at the core, but he’d started manifesting them differently after getting married. On the other hand, Meklavar rarely initiated kisses and cuddles with him. He knew all too well she’d always liked her personal space.

Though he was content with restricting their lovemaking to the platonic variety, he was pretty happy when they started trying to get pregnant again. Since the first time they’d been one, he’d felt a deeper connection with her than ever before. Neither he nor she had ever mated with anyone else. It was an incredibly special experience for even her, especially after she discovered she was expecting a baby. Their baby. The one they’d come together to create. Part Block, part Meklavar.

That was why his heart had broken so deeply when not all that long ago she’d lost two or three pregnancies. They were his children too. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder if her pain – as a mother – had been even greater than his own.

He had wondered that yet again several hours ago when their only child – the one they’d formed from their own flesh – had been taken from their lives. After his death, he had said to her that once he’d never thought that he’d one day see her become a mother. Before their marriage, Meklavar had seemed like a brother-in-arms. Though he never truly forgot she was a girl, she was rather masculine in appearance and personality. Much like most people upon meeting her, when he’d met her for the first time – just after his village had been turned to stone and he was fretting about what he could possibly do – he’d thought she was a boy. When he’d eventually found out she was female, he’d been pretty embarrassed but she’d been rather amused by his mistake.

Even after getting married, she still just seemed like his same old tomboy best friend, working as a woodcutter to provide for them while Block was a stay-at-home husband, spending his time doing the housework and cooking the dinner. However, nine months into their marriage, everything had changed. That was when Meklavar found out she was pregnant with Afen. Though Block had noticed subtle feminine qualities in her before, it wasn’t until after then that he began to see the more womanly side of her. It wasn’t so much the fact she’d taken to wearing dresses and was growing her hair out, but rather that she quickly developed a strong bond with the child in her womb, becoming willing to suffer whatever was necessary to bring him into the world.

After she’d experienced such a connection with her son, he knew that he wanted more than anything for her heart to be unbroken. They shared closeness with each other that they had with no-one else and when one party was suffering, so did the other.

Though neither Block nor Meklavar noticed, Pike slipped his own hand into Valayun’s. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. The archer’s hand was dainty and there was a kindness to her touch that made Pike feel so good inside…yet he knew he should not express desires for any kind of intimacy with her, for she was someone else’s now. Theodshin was a lucky man, no kidding. He only hoped the elvish knight realised that.

As Alfor continued to chant, his onlookers began to hear voices. Voices that did not belong to anyone in the room…or at least no-one they could see. The voices said the same words as Alfor, gradually becoming more unified with his own.

The veteran sorcerer conjured a magic circle in front of Afen’s bed. Block noticed its appearance wasn’t like that of any he had cast himself or seen anyone else create…and probably with good reason.

The toy horse, plate of breakfast and bunch of flowers began to tingle with magic. Alfor pressed symbols on the circle, now chorusing with the supernatural voices. Snake-like strips of white matter began to slither out of the bowl of herbs and towards Afen.

The audience began to get particularly nervous. Here was the moment of reckoning. A matter of life and death.

The ribbons found their way to where the toddler’s body was lying and leapt through his nostrils. Alfor continued chanting, but slowly the voices began to fade away, until there was only his voice left. He then pressed one last symbol on the circle, before letting it vanish.

He kneeled down beside the boy, holding the flask of medicine in one hand. With the other hand, he reached out and touched where Afen’s heart was located. He then uttered another strange word, completing the ritual.

The child’s parents and friends watched intently. Had the spell worked?

Alfor removed the bouquet from where it was placed and set it on the floor. He then took hold of Afen’s hand and gently caressed it, waiting for any sign of movement.

At first, he continued to remain still and everyone was left on edge. The tension was unbearable. Then, all of a sudden, they began to notice something. Little by little, the colour was coming back into his face.

The boy lay there for another minute before opening his eyes. He did not move, but looked at Alfor, who was gazing fondly at him. The sorcerer let go of the infant’s hand and opened the vial, before placing it to his mouth. Afen drank it down, every last drop.

Once he was finished, Alfor gave his hair a ruffle and stood back. Block and Meklavar rushed over and seized their son – who had just sat up – into an embrace. No words were said, but it was the tenderest sight imaginable.

Alfor knew he would hold Melenor in just the same way if he was to be with her again. Perhaps he would never find out who took his lovely wife away from him, but at least now Block and Meklavar would never have to go through the same experience that he had. He thanked the gods deeply for helping him perform the ritual so perfectly, when any number of things could have easily gone wrong. The gods had really been helping him and all those he’d been with today. Saving Afen’s life had been nothing short of a miracle, in every way.

Pike, Jiro and Valayun joined in the cuddle as well. It lasted for another minute before they let go of him and his parents.

The couple continued to hug him for another minute, rocking him back and forth.

Afterward, Meklavar asked, “What was it like up there, little buddy? Before you went, you told us you saw a great white light.”

“White light?” repeated Afen, “Lots of white light. And fweinds. Lots of fweinds.”

They embraced him again.

…

After a quick snack to stop their stomachs from growling, Jiro, Valayun and Pike stayed the night again (with Alfor going back to the inn), only this time Valayun slept in the same bed as Afen. He was feeling perkier after having eaten the meal Block had made for him and was in all honesty pretty restless. He tossed and turned, annoying Valayun, but she didn’t say anything out of respect.

Block and Meklavar slept in their double bed, getting a good night’s sleep after almost a week’s worth of constant stress. When they awoke the next morning, they felt refreshed and happy. After a few kisses, Block was about to get up and check on Afen, when all of a sudden the little boy ran into their bedroom, laughing with glee. He jumped onto his parents’ bed and they began wrestling with him.

Valayun came in from the other room, still wearing Meklavar’s winter nightie, to find the pyjama-clad family having a loving play fight together. It warmed her heart to see everything was back to normal, contrasting so drastically with the sombre scene she’d walked in upon  the day before yesterday. Afen had been restored back to health, all thanks to the diligence of her and their other friends, as well as her father’s skill in magic.

After everyone had got themselves ready for the day, Block invited them all along to church, where they could thank the gods for their good fortune the day before. They met Alfor there and Block and Meklavar each gave him a cuddle, unable to thank him enough for what he’d done for them. It had been just the same the evening before, after they’d finished embracing their son.

Once the service was over, Afen began playing with the other children on the nearby green. He was much younger than most of them, but none of them minded. As he ran around giggling, it was hard to imagine that the day before he’d almost departed from this world.

As Block and Meklavar stood watching him, they began to realise that all those scenes they’d imagined the day before were not going to happen. There would be no funeral, no visiting their son’s gravestone, no feeling of emptiness in their home, no having to tell their relatives about their loss. They would try to get pregnant again, but even if they lost all their other children, they still had Afendorn. When they inevitably grew old, they hoped their son would be married and have children of his own, filling their home with the patter of tiny feet whenever he and his wife came to visit. It sounded like a wonderful future.

Pike, Jiro, Valayun and Alfor eventually bid them goodbye, but not before the couple invited them all to their anniversary in two months, on which they had now decided to hold a party after all. Now that their son’s life was saved, they had a pretty good reason to celebrate.

Come autumn, the celebration went ahead as planned. Block prepared a terrific feast for lunch and their four friends all attended. Pike took Afen off Meklavar’s hands, which she was immensely grateful for, and ran all around the green part of the garden with him while she remained in the house with Block, pretending he was a tickle monster out to get him. Jiro joined in as well, playing the role of a knight who tried to slay the tickle monster. Valayun sat laughing at their silliness as the game progressed.

After Jiro “killed” the monster, she clapped and cheered. Pike was rather annoyed that she was taking satisfaction in his simulated death and promptly resurrected himself, ran over to where she was sitting and started tickling her! Valayun squeaked in shock before bursting into fits of laughter, making Afen giggle unstoppably. Jiro and Alfor found the sight very funny as well and began putting their hands over their faces and snorting.

Valayun eventually was able to free herself from her tormentor, who by this time had figured she’d had enough and respectfully calmed down a little. “I’ve had quite enough of that, Pike!” she said with a smile. However, she couldn’t resist the thought of getting revenge…

Before long, it was Pike who was hooting with laughter from Valayun’s tickles! Jiro and Alfor chuckled even harder. The Paladin had to turn around and bend over, he was laughing so hard.

Pike tried to run away but Valayun caught him and tackled him to the ground. The pair writhed around on the grass, Pike desperate to escape. Then, some when during their playful struggle, when Valayun’s face was not that far away from his, he got a powerful urge. Stronger than any he’d ever had before.

He wanted to kiss her. Not a little peck on the cheek, but on the lips – intimately.

It took every last bit of willpower he had to fight this instinct. Though they were fighting like lovers, they were just friends. They never could be any more than friends. Valayun wasn’t his – she was Theodshin’s.

Eventually the play-fight ended and the pair picked themselves off the ground. Pike offered Valayun his hand as they got up. She smiled at him thankfully, before Block came out the house to announce that dinner was ready. As they made their way inside, Alfor caught sight of the expression Pike had on his face. He was looking at Valayun – longingly. The sorcerer thought back to when they were visiting the prison where Terrig had once been incarcerated. That time when he’d noticed Pike putting his arm around Valayun…was it possible the young man had feelings for his daughter?

He didn’t have time to ponder this more thoroughly, however, as before long everyone was sat around the table, chatting and laughing. Meklavar merely smiled though. She was feeling rather uneasy today.

Block had baked her some gingerbread, which was the only thing she ate from the impressive spread he’d concocted. “Feeling better, baby?” he asked after she’d downed two biscuits, kissing her on the head.

“A little,” she responded, “I don’t think I’m gonna be sick today.”

The others’ curiosity was peaked a little. Meklavar noticed their raised eyebrows and knew she would have to spill the beans.

“I think I might be with child again,” she explained. What she didn’t mention (though it wasn’t hard for anyone to work out) was just when the baby had been conceived. After church, she and Block went out for an afternoon walk with their son, after they’d eaten lunch. It uplifted them deeply to spend time with him and when the night came, Block was in a romantic mood, so she’d gone along with him… They’d made love a couple of other times since as well.

The others were visibly excited, but didn’t know quite whether to congratulate her, after what they knew had become of her last three pregnancies.

Block reached over and rubbed her tummy, albeit with a rather sad expression. “I’m probably going to lose this little one as well,” lamented Meklavar.

Afen, who was sat next to her, began to get upset. Pike put his arm around him.

“Don’t cry, little buddy! Your Mom’s real tough, right? Maybe this baby has inherited her toughness genes and is gonna stick it out to the end – just like you! You’re real tough, just like your Mom.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. Afen smiled.

“I guess there’s still some hope,” said Meklavar. She and Block gazed at each other fondly, before she arched her eyebrows and grinned. “If our son can survive his illness, then anything’s possible. My Mom lost a few kids too before she gave birth to me.”

Block removed his hand from her belly and placed it on her shoulder, smiling in agreement. “I think my Mom did too,” he said, consolingly, “Man, that must have been hard for her and Dad…you don’t know how much it hurts until it happens to you.”  

“Oh! That reminds me.” Alfor suddenly remembered something. “Neekerba has been put on trial and found guilty of intentionally trying to harm a child. The court is going to sentence her to life in prison, but since you are the victim’s parents, they need your invoice. If you command it, you could have her executed.”

“No!” the couple chorused firmly.

“Absolutely not! That’s out of the question,” said Meklavar while Block said, shaking his hand, “Uh, uh! We don’t like to kill anyone if we can help it.”

Alfor took out a piece of paper. “I will need you to sign this document though, saying that you agree with the decision that the courts made.”

As he slid the paper over to the pair, Valayun said, “I do hope they’re not going to imprison her in that dungeon we visited. It was a ghastly place!”

“It’s probable she would be incarcerated there, since it’s the nearest option,” replied Alfor.

Meklavar fetched a quill and ink to sign the paper. After she sat down and handed the quill to him, Block said to her, “Honey, I don’t think I can do this. It’s the same prison her son died in. Even after all she did to our son…I just can’t send her there, especially if it really is as bad as Valayun says.”

He and Meklavar had not actually entered where the prisoners were kept in the gaol, but he remembered it being underground and a pretty unpleasant place. Valayun’s anecdote especially haunted him. He would be horrified if anything like that happened to Meklavar. No matter how evil Neekerba was, he didn’t want something like that to come upon her either. She’d already been through a lot in her life, having her husband walk out on her (as Alfor had revealed later) and losing her only child – just like they almost did. In his mind appeared a heart-rending picture of the ogress standing beside her son’s funeral pyre, not far from the dungeon he’d died in, perhaps the only attendee of his funeral besides whoever was burning him.

“You could suggest that they send her to another prison,” opted Jiro, “If the courts are giving you the power to have her executed if you wish, I’m sure it wouldn’t be much of a burden for them to send her to a penitentiary in another land.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Meklavar and she began scribbling away on the document. Block signed as well and they handed it back to Alfor.

After the meal, Afen messed around outside again with his friends and family. Meklavar was feeling less ill by now and was even able to join in some of the chases. When the party was over, there were hugs all round and Block and Meklavar invited everyone to come over on Afendorn’s third birthday, which was early in the coming year.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Four months passed. The seasons changed from early autumn to the middle of winter. On Afen’s birthday, a soft snowfall had fallen the night before, mirroring the state of the forest on the day of his birth. Alfor, Valayun and another guest braved the icy conditions as they journeyed to the cottage, wrapped up in their cold weather gear. Eventually, they arrived and Block ushered them inside.

The fire was roaring and little Afen was sat in front of it, playing with his toy horse. A fruit stew was cooking in a cauldron and Block gave it a stir, while the visitors took off their coats and capes. There was one person in particular that caught Afendorn’s attention. He had not seen this man before.

The young man removed his hat, shaking loose a cascade of silky white hair. He looked in Afen’s direction.

“Is this the birthday boy?” he enquired, bending down to the toddler’s level. He had a well-spoken English voice.

Afen walked over to him, still carrying his horse. “You pwetty!” he said, before giggling away.

The stranger raised an eyebrow and put a thumb and forefinger to his chin, smiling pleasantly. “I suppose I am quite a fetching fellow…” He offered his hand to the small boy, who shook it enthusiastically. “My name is Theodshin. Valayun and I are courting each other.” He retracted his arm.

“You Va-yun’s boyfweind!” Afen giggled again.

“And you must be Afendorn. My sweetheart has told me so much about you and your parents. Apparently she went on many quests with them before they were married and had you keeping them on their toes.”

“She got that right…” commented Block, who’d finished stirring the stew. He walked over to Afen and ruffled his hair. “You’re a real handful, aren’t you, little fella?”

By this time, Alfor and Valayun had finished hanging up their cloaks. The elvish archer was wearing a gold, white and blue tunic made of thick material over her jumpsuit and she retained her pink gloves. She noticed Meklavar was seated at the dining table. Her hair was cut short again, this time swept over to one side, and she was looking very healthy, in stark contrast with the last two times Valayun had seen her.

“Oh my!” said the elf maiden, “Your new hairstyle really suits you. Did the barber actually shave part of it off?”

Meklavar ran her fingers over her new undercut, on her left hand side. “He sure did! I saw this style on another warrior woman in town and wanted to try it.” It was considerably easier to care for than elbow-length tresses.

Valayun gave her a brief hug. “It’s good to see you’re well again.” She let of her. “Oh, I just remembered!” She paused for a moment, trying to figure out what would be the most appropriate wording. “The last time I saw you, I recall you mentioning that you thought you might be with child, but you feared that you might lose the baby. I would like to know…what happened.”

Meklavar got up from her seat. “Does that answer your question?”

Valayun gasped in delighted surprise. The dwarf woman was resting a hand on her swollen belly, unable to stop grinning.

“Congratulations,” said Alfor, beaming from ear to ear.

“The baby’s due in three phoebs,” said Block, having calculated this himself using his skills in magic.

“I see you’re going to be a big brother soon,” Theodshin addressed Afen, “I must say, you are very fortunate to have such a loving family. My parents died when I was quite young and I never had a younger brother or sister.”

“That sad,” said Afen forlornly.

“It was difficult growing up without them, but my guardian took excellent care of me. That’s not to say she was the most pleasant of characters…I found her quite the hard task-master at times.”

Valayun clapped a hand over her face and started laughing. “My goodness…don’t remind me of the speech she gave to us when you brought me to visit her!”

Theodshin smiled. “I’m sorry I had to subject you to that, my dear. It won’t be long before she starts demanding to know when we’re going to produce offspring!” He chuckled.

Valayun removed the hand from her face and looked him in the eye. He nodded.

Theodshin rose to his feet while Valayun went over to his side. The pair smiled and held hands.

“I am pleased to announce that Valayun and I are engaged,” pronounced the elvish knight. He held up his fiancé’s hand, upon which was a dainty gold ring. Valayun looked so pleased and behind them, Alfor had an expression befitting of a proud father.

Block’s hands flew to his face, his eyes glittering. “You’re getting married?!”

“We’re planning for our wedding to be held in the summer,” added Valayun, lowering her hand, “You’re all invited.”

“Oh, sweet!” said Meklavar.

“Do you think you’d like to be a bridesmaid?” the elf woman asked her.

“I sure would!” Meklavar put her hands on her hips.

“Theodshin does not have many male friends, so we’re thinking of asking Pike to be the best man. I only hope it’s not inappropriate…he’s been flirting with me since shortly after we first met.”

“Oh, I’m sure Pike will make a great best man,” said Block, “If Meklavar and I hadn’t gotten married so fast, we would’ve had him as ours.”

Theodshin crouched down to Afen’s level again. “And would you, young man, like to be the ring bearer?”

The boy nodded before hurrying over to his parents and dancing around excitedly. He had no idea what a “ring bearer” was but was exhilarated all the same.

It was at that moment there was a knock at the door. Alfor opened it and in stumbled Pike, buried beneath his winter clothes. He removed his coat and pulled his scarf down from his nose. Afen ran over to him, unable to contain his eagerness to see his “Uncle Pike” again.

Pike kneeled down. “Howdy there, little fella!” He high-fived the toddler. “Oh yeah!” He gave his young friend a cuddle. “It’s good to see you again, little guy.” He retracted his hands. “Hey, is it just me, or have you grown since I last saw you?” He raised his hand, miming growth.

“He’s a growing boy,” said Block with a grin.

“Man, you really are gonna be as big as your Dad someday!” Pike rose up and ruffled the small boy’s hair. He walked over to Block and Meklavar and his face lit up when he saw her belly.

“No…WAY!” he cried.

Meklavar looked down at her bump and placed a hand on it, a big smile on her face. “It’s those toughness genes, isn’t it, little one?” she said to her unborn child.

Pike bent down to fondle her tummy. “Did you hear that, kiddo? You’re tough as old boots, just like your Mom! Hey…is that a kick?” He could certainly feel some movement in Meklavar’s womb. “Not even out of your Mom yet and already doing karate chops…you really are a fighter!”

Block and Meklavar tenderly exchanged glances. Also looking at each other were Valayun and Theodshin.

“Should I tell him?” Valayun asked her fiancé. Theodshin nodded. They let go of each other’s hands. “Oh, Pike?” She stepped forward.

The cat boy gave Meklavar’s abdomen one final rub and turned around, standing up. “Oh hey, Valayun!”

The elvish warrior was a little hesitant at first, unsure of how to break the news. She eventually decided to just hold up her hand, grinning all the while.

“WHOA!” cried Pike. Inside his mind it felt like a spear had pierced him but he fought off his disappointment, wanting to be happy for her. “I guess…you guys are engaged now.”

Theodshin placed a hand on his sweetheart’s shoulder. “We are planning to make our vows in a ceremony sometime during the summer.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Congratulations, guys…”

“Pike, we were wondering if you’d perform a…little favour for us,” said Valayun. “Theodshin doesn’t have a lot of male friends, so…we’d like you to be the best man.” Pike’s eyes widened. “I do hope that wouldn’t be too much.”

“…no! I’d be totally OK with that. What exactly would I have to do?”

“Well, I suppose you could give a short speech, but mainly it would be acting as our assistant. You would guard the rings until the ceremony and help direct the guests to their seating.”

Pike put his hands on his hips. “Oh sure! I could do that.”

“I’m certain you will be awfully good at it, Pike. I knew you would be the perfect choice.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Down inside, Pike still hurt, though he was hiding it the best he could. He ached deeply, longing for the lovely Valayun to be his, yet knowing it was vain to keep wishing for her affection, but at the same time, something warmed his soul.

_She chose me!_ he thought. _Out of all the men and women she knows, she chose me!_

Even if he could never be her groom, he would be the best “best man” she could ever hope for. The best man at the wedding of the beautiful Valayun who’d changed him so much for the better…if it was the greatest thing he could do to thank her for the happiness she’d brought him, it would be a worthy tribute. He’d met Theodshin a couple of times before, but didn’t know him especially well. What he did know was that the young man was as charming and gentlemanly, loving Valayun for her intelligence as well as her beauty, as he was handsome. Pike was all too aware he was just a common thief turned hero – he couldn’t compete with a beautiful knight like Theodshin. It was time to let Valayun go – completely.

“I’m sure I’ll make just as good a bridesmaid!” said Meklavar, who’d had experience in such for the first time almost four years ago, “Who knows – if this little one’s a girl, maybe she can be a bridesmaid too.” The baby moved again, as if it liked that idea very much.

Before long, lunch was served and Jiro turned up just in time to join everyone gathered around the table. He smiled when he saw that Meklavar was obviously pregnant, due in just three months! He also gave her pixie cut an affectionate ruffle, making her laugh.

It also wasn’t long before he heard about Valayun and Theodshin’s engagement. He was pleased for them and got involved in the mealtime discussion about her wedding plans. Her father was going to conduct the ceremony and Jiro was asked to be an usher, helping Pike direct the guests. She described what she wanted her dress to look like and the flowers that would decorate the chapel. Valayun didn’t try to dominate the conversation though and everyone paid plenty of attention to the birthday boy, which he enjoyed immensely, nattering away excitedly.

They didn’t understand half of what he was saying, but just sat and smiled. He was such a delightful character and they had the rest of their lives to get to know him. Every moment they had with him made them grateful their time with him hadn’t been cut short.

After the meal, they played games together, Meklavar seated in her rocking chair. Already her baby bump was getting cumbersome. Her and Block’s second child was probably going to grow as big as Afen did in the womb and would require Block to use sorcery to shrink it again when she went into labour. She’d discussed this with him not long ago, hoping that being prepared would stop him from panicking when the time came.

One of the games the guests played with Afen was hide and seek. The toddler counted up to twenty (or near enough…) while everyone scrambled around to find hiding places. Afendorn was no cheat and didn’t take his hands off his eyes until he’d finished counting. When he removed them, he looked around for any clues of where his friends could have vanished to.

The first person he spotted was Pike. In the rush, all the good hiding places had been taken before he could get to them (come to think of it, he really should have used his teleportation powers…) so he’d resorted to half-jokingly hiding behind the hat-stand. Despite his and the others’ coats and scarves almost burying it, his tail and ears stuck out rather obviously.

Afen went up to him and said, “Found-oo!”

“You found me?” exclaimed Pike in mock surprise, “What? No way! My hiding spot was perfect. You must have used magic to find me. That’s the only way you could outwit a ninja assassin like your old Uncle Pike!”

Afen giggled and started searching for the others. He went up to his mother (the only person who hadn’t hidden herself) and asked, “Where Dad?”

“Don’t ask me!” responded Meklavar, “Go find him yourself!” She shooed him away.

Afen tried looking under the table. As soon as he’d pulled a chair out of the way, a hand leapt out and grabbed his arm. The boy squeaked in thrilled shock.

“Got you!” cried Block, crawling out from under the table to give his son a big cuddle. Alfor was also under there and made his way out, grinning all the while.

“Where Va-yun?” asked Afen after he’d had his fill of his father’s hug.

“I don’t know, little buddy. Try looking upstairs.”

Afen dashed up the staircase, holding onto the rail as his parents always warned him, and had a look in his parents’ room. He quickly discovered that there was no-one in there (the hiders had been too respectful to go into Block and Meklavar’s private chamber) and went on to his room. He had a look under his bed and found Jiro under there, who gave him a playful wrestle. Now that he’d been found, Afen was about to dance off back downstairs when Jiro gently pulled him back and whispered in his ear. The boy nodded.

He then went over to the bedroom door and had a look behind it. Lurking there was Theodshin.

“You found me!” he cried, “I must say, you really are a clever boy.”

The three males went downstairs to continue the hunt, now only trying to find Valayun. Afen had a look under Block and Meklavar’s chairs, but there was no sign of her. Then Meklavar pointed him in the direction of the metal bathtub, which was propped up against a wall. He went over to it and tapped on the base. Valayun laughed and carefully crawled out from underneath.

After that, they messed around, playing several more games. Eventually, the guests decided to leave before it got dark. Afen cried, wishing they could stay longer. He gave them all a cuddle goodbye, including his new friend Theodshin.

“Hopefully we’ll see you again before the wedding,” Valayun addressed the toddler. She’d grown more accustomed to talking directly to him by now, instead of just speaking through his parents.

Afen then said something to her that she didn’t quite understand. She asked him to repeat it and then realised he was asking if her and Theodshin were going to have children.

“Well…” she replied, the eyes of her curious friends upon her as well, “I suppose we might. I’m still just considering it.” She looked at Theodshin and they exchanged smiles. Knowing Afendorn had caused her to become a little more comfortable around children. Though she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready to have one of her own just yet – indeed, it wasn’t long ago she believed she could never be a good mother – she knew Theodshin wanted kids and hoped someday they would be able to have one or two. Not too many. That would be overwhelming.

Everyone was able to give Block and Meklavar (whom her husband had helped out of her rocking chair) a handshake or a hug as well.

“I hope everything goes well with the baby,” said Valayun as she embraced Meklavar. She then gave her friend’s tummy an affectionate pat. She also hugged Block and gave his stomach a pat for good measure, which made everyone crack up. Block noticed that his wife’s belly wobbled when she laughed, which made him smile.

They waved everyone goodbye as they set off through the door, trying to find their ways home.

…

It was a very fitting ending, in the eyes of the storytellers. Another quest completed and a life saved. Boy, were they glad it was finished though! The group had been coming up with ideas for the story’s potential direction (taking inspiration from the sorts of things that happened in the Monsters and Mana universe) non-stop for over an hour and Allura and Shiro were quite worn out.

Hunk and Pidge, however, were just as fired up; talking about their characters’ new baby and all the names they could potentially call it.

“If it’s a girl, I vote Roslyn,” put forth Pidge.

“Wait…is that actually an Altean name?”

“Sure is. I did some research.”

“Well, if it’s a guy I’d like to call him…Junior.”

“Hunk!”

“It’s the only name I can think of!”

“I’m sure I can think of a better name. What about…Guillmar?”

“Is that an Altean name too?”

“I do my research, you know…”

Meanwhile, Lance was looking at Allura. Though Coran hadn’t actually described Valayun’s fiancé to the group (it was his idea that she would have one, though Allura had chosen the name – it sounded very attractive to her), Lance had conjured up a very clear mental image of the guy. In his mind, Theodshin looked, acted and sounded just like Prince Lotor. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for his game counterpart. Poor old Pike, no doubt suffering the same frustrations as him, now that Prince Charming had danced into his crush’s life and swept her off her feet!

He’d lost the beautiful princess to another, in both his reality (as Slav would say) and Pike’s. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Still, maybe he had it better than Pike. At least he wasn’t a third wheel as well…

“Will the new baby sleep in Block and Meklavar’s bed?” enquired Hunk, “I mean, we’ve – sorry, they’ve! – got a cradle, so it could sleep there if you want.”

“I’m sure it could sleep in our bed. I mean Block and Meklavar’s bed! Dang it…”

She and Hunk laughed. The pair of them were getting so invested in their fantasy it was getting hard to separate it from reality!

One thing was certain, however: though today’s story might be over, it was fairly obvious that it was only going to be the start of many others…


End file.
